


I would woo you in a quiet place (if i could speak the words)

by Lifeandothercomplexities



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A Quiet Place AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, other tags will be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeandothercomplexities/pseuds/Lifeandothercomplexities
Summary: For Jughead, the end of the world feels nearly like everything else in his life. Disappointing. For someone who has invested so much in words, the apocalypse is devoid of all the glorious doom promised by the poets. It is simply the loss of sound. He has always been a quiet soul and the words that die on everyone else’s lips still find their way on paper in his hands. The quieter it has gotten, the more verbose his characters.Or in a world that is getting progressively quieter, Jughead Jones has not once yearned the loss of spoken words. Until she turns up at his door





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts), [loveleee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/gifts), [DarknessAroundUs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/gifts), [Lydia_Mars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Mars/gifts).



> This universe is based on the one depicted in the wonderful film "A quiet place." The sequence of events is based on a somewhat later period in a world where the few survivors have adapted to their new way of life without sound. The plot itself however has no similarities to the film. It is simply a tale of falling in love and new beginnings.  
> The characters use sign language to communicate and all of the dialogue is written in a manner that makes it clear they are not actually using their voices to speak unless specified.  
> All errors are my own so please be gentle!

Sweat rolls down Jughead’s forehead and along the tip of his nose. His armpits feel just as gross. He’s going to have to beg Fred to let him bathe, hopefully once they’ve collected the fish. He knows Fred hates to leave Mary alone for too long on their trips to the river. There has never been an incident, but the simple fear of anything happening to her while they’re gone makes him nervous and edgy. He’s following Jughead now, entirely focused on keeping his feet on the sandy path they’ve made. He had hurt his right heel on a stray pebble, the last time they’d made the trip, and it had been a near disaster. Jughead has learned enough of wound infections by now to know that Fred’s diabetes and wounds don’t mesh well together.

They make their way cautiously to the river bank. Jughead motions for Fred to wait. The water is delightfully cool when he dips his feet in without bothering to fold up his jeans, they’ll dry out soon enough in this sweltering heat. He makes his way towards the closest of the little fish traps they’ve set up at intervals along the bank. The trapped fish start squirming as soon as he tries to pull one out. They’re tricky little fuckers, he’s learned the hard way. Fred is waiting close by, squatting on his knees, knife resting on the smooth stone they often use for fish cleaning purposes. Jughead finally grips one and smoothly passes the wriggling demon to Fred. It’s all downhill for the poor bastard from there.

The next hour or so passes by quickly enough as they stock up enough fish and refill the water cans. He motions to Fred again and mouths, “shower” once they’re done. Fred nods and settles back, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a worn out lighter. Jughead is constantly surprised by the fact that Fred had been a somewhat regular smoker before. It never came up in conversations with Archie, and whereas those were never too deep or insightful, Jughead had considered himself quite the observer and the only vice he had ever seen Fred indulge in was the occasional bottle of beer. He still doesn’t know if Mary knows about it. Their river trips without her seem to be the favoured time for this particular activity. He knows he’s not going to be the one to blab if it’s a secret. In this post apocalyptic world Fred Andrews is entitled to whatever vice he chooses of his own free will. And if that means Jughead has to bear the brunt of Mary’s “ those awful things will kill you” lectures, then so be it.

He makes his way to the waterfall, towards the sweet spot he’s discovered serves as a very good showering point, affording as much privacy as bathing outdoors naked can afford someone. He makes quick business of stripping off his clothes. The water always stings when it hits his bare back. He squirts some soap on his hand from the little bottle Mary keeps for them and scrubs himself hard. He’ll need to shave his armpits and pubes the next time he makes the trip. He’s beginning to feel like a cave man.

He doesn’t bother with drying himself and slips on his clothes. Collecting the dirty ones, he rolls them up in a ball and stuffs them unceremoniously into his backpack. Fred is still smoking when he makes his way back to him, apparently lost deep in thought. He often wonders how much Fred thinks about Archie. They’ve pretty much steered clear off this topic. Maybe it’s better that way. 

For Judhead, the end of the world feels nearly like everything else in his life. Disappointing. For someone who has invested so much in words, the apocalypse is devoid of all the glorious doom promised by the poets. It is simply the loss of sound. He has always been a quiet soul and the words that die on everyone else’s lips still find their way on paper in his hands. The quieter it has gotten, the more verbose his characters. 

It strikes him often how much he had yearned for this hermit’s life in the woods, back when everything was still the perfectly normal chaos of everyday life. His weirdo loner teenage self probably had wet dreams about it. It’s macabre but also quite fitting, the way all this has come to happen, considering his shit luck. Jughead Jones finally gets to live the writer’s dream life, only at the cost of nearly the entire world’s population. He couldn’t have written it better himself.

******

The trek back home is about two miles from the river. Usually they keep up a brisker pace and it takes close to forty five minutes, but Fred is lagging today. Jughead keeps looking back to check on him. He’s carrying the heavier of the cans and fish cooler but Fred already looks exhausted, even with the lighter load. Jughead’s concerned for him but he’s also desperate to reach the house before sunset: the longer the shadows the more nervous he gets.

The twenty minute patch that covers the deepest part of the woods is just ahead and his dull heartbeat is already beginning to quicken. He hates this part the most no matter how many times he’s made the journey. There are too many terrible memories for it to ever feel normal and the constant threat of another encounter is just too great. Their movements are extra cautious and hyper focused. Which is why when he actually hears the softest thud behind him his heartbeat goes into over drive. He turns around in alarm to face Fred, slack jawed. One of the water cans is lying at Fred’s feet, water seeping slowly into the sand. But the older man isn’t looking at the can. He doesn’t even seem to be aware he has dropped something, let alone made an actual sound. His gaze is focused on something about twenty feet away on the ground.

Heartbeat still erratic, Jughead follows his line of vision, feeling nearly faint. For a second he thinks it’s one of the creatures, hunched for attack, and his fight or flight instinct is already kicking in. However his fear crazed brain eventually registers it isn’t one of the creatures at all.

It’s a woman.

She’s crouched low towards the ground, stance defensive, hyperventilating silent ragged breaths with mouth wide open and alarmingly huge eyes now zeroed in on Jughead. Her own face morphs into one of excruciating pain as she tries to move. Jughead is frozen in his spot until he feels Fred move in the periphery of his vision, quite clearly to reach out to the woman. He shoots out an arm to stop him with a finger to his lips. Whatever has this woman looking nearly terrified to death is still lurking somewhere near by and they need to stay still.

The woman is already a liability. She appears to be injured badly and there is no knowing what the fuck she’ll actually do if one of the creatures attacks them. He’s calculating risk assessment. He needs to get Fred out of the girl’s vicinity as soon as he can. If the girl screams, and he is a hundred percent sure she will, it will give him enough cover to get away. He’s not delusional. His loyalties lie with Fred and Fred only. There is no way in hell he’s going to risk the older man’s life or his own for a random stranger. So he’s going to hold Fred’s hand and very slowly start walking away from her. That’s it. That’s the plan. 

He moves to take Fred’s hand all the while holding a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. He has to understand they need to look away now. Fred is the kindest, gentlest man he knows but there is a time for saving and a time for saving one’s self. 

The woman seems to realize Jughead’s intent to move because she holds out both her hands and mouths “don’t”, gesturing frantically at him to stay put. He ignores her completely and he’s about to forcefully pull Fred away when a deafening gunshot sounds some sixty feet away. He feels the air rush out of his lungs as Fred falls with his entire weight on Jughead essentially pinning him to the ground. 

And then he sees it. 

The inhuman, mangled monstrous thing with its gaping mouth and grotesquely twisted limbs that borders on the edge of his nightmares and reality. It is suddenly looming in front of him giving off a stench so putrid Jughead nearly gags. It moves with lightening speed, blindly following the sound trail and the next second it’s gone in a torrid beating of strong limbs against the ground, no doubt driven by its bloodthirsty craze to hunt down the source of that gun shot, leaving nothing but the sound of silence in its wake.

Jughead doesn’t know how long he just lies there. It could be minutes or hours. He is aware of Fred, breathing lowly, limbs intertwined with his own. The woman is now slumped on the ground, face down, immobile. With every ounce of strength that he can muster Jughead slowly untangles himself from Fred’s body. The other man seems to have the same idea, he is perfectly conscious thank god. They slowly push themselves off the ground, trying to make no sound. It is eerily quiet again. The water cans and fish coolers lie in a mess of wet sand and raw meat and Jughead moves slowly towards one of the coolers in order to salvage as much of their supplies as he can.

Fred holds out his hand and motions towards the woman. “ Help her out”, he mouths.

Jughead sighs. There is no walking away from this situation. He nods and makes his way cautiously towards her. Her gentle thoracic movements indicate she is still very much alive as he slowly bends oved her limp body and turns her over. She isn’t conscious now, that’s for sure, probably passed out from a combination of fear and pain from whatever injury she has sustained. If he wants to get out of this hell hole with her he’s going to have to fucking carry her. The sooner he accepts this reality the sooner they can move. He turns around squinting at Fred, who has reached the same conclusion and is already waiting with most of the water cans and fish coolers. Here goes nothing, Jughead thinks and pulls her up bridal style into his arms.

******

The sky is a beautiful palette of gold and peach and pink by the time they finally reach the relative security of their farmhouse to find a frantic Mary pacing the yard with a loaded shotgun in hand. The sun still hasn’t set but they are well over two hours late by now and Jughead can only imagine the kind of worried she must have been. She practically runs towards them, still mindful of the sandy path but stops midway in shock when she realizes Jughead is carrying a person in his arms. They reach her but she doesn’t ask questions. Jughead is ready to pass out from exhaustion with Fred in tow. The woman, though half starved from the looks of it, is not petite. It had been slow progress from the site of the incident to the house and they had to stop multiple times just to catch their breaths. Mary is already trying to take on as much as she can carry from Fred as Jughead finally makes his way to the open door. Once inside, he unceremoniously dumps the girl on the couch and simply slumps to the carpeted floor next to her, closing his eyes.

He can feel Mary and Fred, as they move about soundlessly, putting away supplies or perhaps gathering supplies to tend to their injured unconscious guest. But before he can offer to help, he succumbs to his exhaustion and falls into a fitful, restless sleep.

******

He wakes up with a start, to what is Mary’s soothing hand running through his hair. He’s still sprawled out on the carpet, but there’s a duvet covering his body. It’s dark out now and Mary is sitting next to him, back resting along the couch with a mug of what smells like her favourite herbal tea delicately balanced on the paper back she is reading. Her other hand is making heavenly circles on his scalp and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep again. 

Fred is also sleeping on his Barcalounger, exhaustion apparent on his face. There is a face mask covering his mouth, a piece of leather stitched along its sides to further thicken it. It is the only remedy they have been able to think of for his snores. It has worked so far, because though Jughead can make out a muffled sound, it’s never attracted any attention from the creatures. Maybe snoring is one of the sounds they just accept exists in this world. Like the sound of wind and water. It has brought him an immense amount of relief knowing his own body won’t betray him in the depths of slumber. 

He taps Mary’s foot to let her know he’s awake and slowly sits up. The woman is still lying on the couch but her face has been cleaned, and despite the multiple cuts and bruises and a split lip, she is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s hard to reconcile this gorgeous woman sleeping peacefully with the half dead terrified girl in the woods. Guilt washes over him suddenly. He nearly left her there. 

He feels Mary’s eyes watching him, expression unreadable.

“ She ok ?” he signs to her.

Mary nods.

“ Injuries?” he signs again.

“ Multiple..nothing serious” she signs back.” Right wrist sprain. Very tender. Large open wound on left thigh.”

Jughead nods. Now that Mary has mentioned it, he notices her bandaged hand and wrist. The bandage on her thigh.

“Fred ok?” he signs motioning towards the sleeping man.

Mary nods again.

“ You want something to eat? “ she signs to him.

He feels hungry, but he doesn’t want Mary to get up for his sake. He shakes his head and lies down again instead. Mary’s fingers resume their circular motion on his scalp. He goes to sleep lulled by a strange sense of comfort and the wonderful sound of Fred’s muffled snores.

******

It has been three days since he walked home with a woman in his arms. 

Two days since he woke up to find she had regained consciousness while he was passed out at her feet on the floor.

This is what he knows about her so far.

Her name is Betty Cooper. She is 24 years old ( 2 months older than him, information courtesy of Mary). She was born and raised in some small town near New York, not unlike their own. Betty has lost a mother, a pregnant sister and an estranged brother to the apocalypse so far since the end began, almost 15 months ago. She has nothing to say about her father. 

He also knows that Betty has spent the better part of the last four months on the road pretty much alone, and that she had not eaten anything in the last two days before they found her. How the fuck she is still alive he doesn’t know. She tells them most of this by writing down answers to questions they write for her. They being mostly Mary and sometimes Fred, Jughead feels just too exhausted to invest himself in yet another complicated means of communication. She doesn’t know ASL at all, unlike Mary and Jughead who have gotten almost fluent in it or even Fred, who can at least understand it. Jughead has mostly had this information passed on to him by Mary.

Jughead also knows now, ( and this is something he has picked up on his own) that Betty Cooper is unnaturally cheerful for someone who has lost her entire family, one by one, to the terrible blind creatures that are the bane of the human race and then, gone through God knows what kind of hell, to have made it alive this far entirely on her own. His own last encounter in the woods has left him feeling drained and shell shocked and the same can be said about Fred. The only person to be injured and at the mercy of complete strangers should at least look a bit shaken. Betty, on the other hand is completely at home and besides the apparent bruising, looks runway model ready. It’s beginning to drive him a little bit insane.

The first day, when he wakes up to find a pair of startlingly green eyes staring into his, he is overwhelmed by guilt once again. Betty is up and about, bandaged wrists and thighs included, whisking away something in a pan with Mary while she either gestures or writes down her questions and answers in a little note pad. Mary seems to be quite overwhelmed herself, ( he can tell it in the way she keeps throwing furtive glances at the girl every time she looks away). She introduces Jughead when he ambles over to the kitchen counter, holding up a paper with “This is Betty Cooper” written on it.

“ I told her your name,” Mary signs to him.” She likes it,”

Jughead quirks a brow at her and Mary grins.

When Fred joins them for breakfast, ruffling Jughead’s hair on the way to his seat, he finds Betty staring at him again. There is something unsettling about her frank open stare and he feels weirdly claustrophobic under it. Mary serves them fruit and dry cereal in little wooden bowls and Betty holds out her hands as if in prayer. It takes all of Jughead’s will power not to do an eye roll. 

Later when Mary has gone out to work in the vegetable garden and Fred is quietly mending one of his shirts, Jughead finds himself in Betty’s company again when she comes and sits by him on the couch where he’s making a list of the things they need for his next trip to the abandoned town market. He ignores her till it gets so uncomfortable he finally has to look up. She holds out her hands, asking him for the note pad. It’s the same one she’s been using. He passes it to her along with the pen. Betty writes something on it and holds it out for him.

Thank you for saving my life, it reads, Mary told me you carried me here after I passed out.

Jughead just nods at her. He doesn’t really know what else to do. But she smiles widely at him with that gorgeous lush mouth and he feels uneasy all over again. He gets up gesturing vaguely towards the garden, where Mary can be seen pulling out weeds from the open door. He can feel her eyes boring into his back as he leaves And it makes his neck hair prickle. 

In the garden, when he squats besides Mary, she looks up from her hands pulling at weeds in the soil and gives him a quirky smile.

“ So what do you make of her?” he signs to her.

“ Seems nice.” Mary signs back. 

“ You don’t think it’s weird, how calm she is?” 

Mary just shrugs. He takes up a gardening hoe from the tool bag lying besides him and starts weeding.

“ She was pretty scared when we found her,” he signs eventually,” did she know who shot the gun?”

“ Some man she came upon with a dead kid. She said she started running away from him because he was crying loudly. She thinks he probably shot himself before they could get him.”

Jughead grimaces and continues weeding. He knows Mary’s looking at him.

“ You’re not going to tell me what’s up with you? “ Mary signs.

Jughead sighs. This woman has come to read his face like an open book. He looks away towards the corn fields and tries to think of words to tell her.

“ I nearly left her,” he signs, and there is a strange lump in the back of his throat” I would have left her, if it wasn’t for Fred. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“ You brought her back,” Mary’s hand gestures are forceful and demand his attention. She jabs a finger in his chest. “ It doesn't matter about the other part.”

He looks towards the house. There is a strange woman inside who thinks she needs to be thankful to him for saving her life. He doesn’t feel like a saviour at all.

******

 

It has been two weeks now. He still doesn’t know what to make of her.

The carefully constructed balance of his life has changed completely over these two weeks and Jughead’s not too thrilled about it. Betty cooper is the kind of perfect that feels too good to be true. Of course Mary and Fred love her. She is warm, compassionate, smart and adaptable. She is a hundred different words in the dictionary that are basically synonyms for wonderful. She is dependable and resourceful. The perfect friend for the end of the world. He kind of hates her.

The fact that she is intuitive enough to catch on to that is unnerving. He isn’t the nicest person to walk this earth, he knows that, but he’s not an outright asshole. He can only imagine the kind of despair she felt all those weeks when she was entirely alone. He should be able to sympathise with her. The fact is, he just cannot bring himself to succumb to her all American perfect girl next door charm. Surviving the end of the world and coming out the other end should entail some changes, it’s only natural. It’s changed him. It has changed Fred and Mary. He didn’t know Betty before obviously, but he has a feeling she has pretty much come out unscathed, butterflies and cupcakes persona intact. 

And then there is the fact that, well...he’s a guy. She is an exceptionally beautiful woman. Once the signs of starvation have faded from her body ( thanks to Mary’s nutritious meals), he realizes she has very tempting curves. He feels on edge around her, uncomfortable in his own skin in a way he hasn’t felt in a long while. And perhaps that adds to his irritation, but she doesn’t really make it any easier with her overly eager attitude. He doesn’t want to be involved in some clichéd end of the world romance with a girl who is as different from him in this world as she was in the one before. 

It still doesn’t give him the right to resent her. Mary’s tone is gently chiding when she reminds him that. They are sitting in the basement, him fiddling with his monitors while Mary makes entries into her log book.

“ We don’t know what she’s been through”, she signs to him, “ everyone copes differently jug.” 

When he doesn’t answer back, she puts her journal away and leans forward to take his face in her hands. He closes his eyes for a second, and just for a second he’s little Forsythe, fallen from the tree house ladder after one of Archie’s idiotic ideas had blown up in their faces. And she is darling Mrs. Andrews, beautiful and glowing like always, with so much love and warmth to give, his six year old self couldn’t help falling in love with her too. When he meets her eyes again she is smiling softly at him but her eyes are shiny.

“ I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” She begins but falters. She shakes her head and begins again, “ how grateful I am for you. How much your being with us means to me.”

He takes her hand and squeezes it. There is a tightness in his throat that prevents the use of words, signed or otherwise.

“ I want you to be happy jug, with what we have left. I want you to guard yourself and be safe. But I also want you to let some of your guard down.”

He understands then what she is trying to say to him. That for him, in the most twisted of turns, fate has provided the possibility of companionship. And it is his for the taking if he can put aside his petty differences with Betty Cooper. He doesn’t make any promises to comply. 

 

******

He does try to make an effort though. She must feel a shift in the hostile vibes he had been giving off earlier because she renews her own efforts to befriend him with rigour. Everywhere he turns Betty cooper is waiting with her megawatt smile. It’s enough to almost make him regret his change of heart. 

Fred likes playing monopoly with Betty every night and sometimes Mary joins them when she doesn’t feel like reading. Jughead usually escapes to the basement, to work on his still unfinished manuscript ( it kind of feels redundant to even write it anymore) or sometimes stare at the monitors he has set up all over the area for surveillance. He catches the monsters sometimes on the screen, prowling the fields, following a sound. When that happens he thinks it’s a miracle they can’t hear the sound of his heart beating painfully like a war drum. 

He’s huddled over his manuscript one night when he feels someone enter the basement. It’s Betty. He huffs silently in annoyance. He has been giving her space and behaving himself around her. But his nightly ventures to the basement are his alone time. He doesn’t want her encroaching on that. She comes down the stairs and cautiously walks up to him, her notepad in hand. She writes on it and holds it up:

Can I sit here with you?

No, jughead thinks. But he nods his head anyway. 

She sits down quietly and writes again:

Couldn’t sleep. I hope I’m not disturbing you.

He’s not even trying anymore when he shrugs nonchalantly.

Can I ask you something? pops up next on that damned notepad.

Jughead wants to ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing. He doesn’t want to play twenty questions with her. He just about clamps his jaws together and shrugs again. She begins writing again and this time it’s something more comprehensive. Then she holds up the pad again:

Is there something I’ve done to offend you? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in your own home. I really like it here and I can’t be thankful enough for everything. But I don’t want to trouble you. I want to be your friend jughead. 

Jughead stares at the paper for what feels like a really long time. What the fuck does she expect him to say. That he doesn’t like her because she continues to stay hopeful and smiles in this god forsaken time when really she should be falling apart? Or that he feels sometimes that she isn’t really as genuine as she lets on and that her pleasant persona is all just an act, hiding something darker and uglier underneath? Or the fact that he’s a grown ass man that had a wet dream about her that would shame his teenage self and probably have her packing up and giving herself willingly to the creatures rather than stay here with him.

She’s looking at him again with her big doe eyes and plump lips and the last part of his internal monologue has a spike of arousal shooting through him at the memory of his dream and what she had let him do to her with those lips. He jerks back physically from her but it’s not quick enough to miss the flash of hurt in her eyes.

He writes, please don’t think that. I’m sorry if I’m giving you cause for worry.

And then he promptly swivels his chair to face away from her. 

After a long pause he feels her get up and leave.

******

She stays away from him after that. She’s never rude or indifferent. Just a little subdued around him perhaps. Jughead feels torn between a sense of relief and guilt. He’s ok with the fact that she is avoiding him, it’s much better that way, both for his sanity and self-preservation. But now that he has seen how brilliant her smile is, he kind of misses it that it’s no longer the same. 

Betty asks Mary to coach her in ASL and throws herself wholly into learning it. Sometimes Mary asks him to help her out when she has other work piled up, but the silence between them is always tense and uncomfortable. She is an excellent student however and Jughead is impressed with the progress she has made in such a short span of time. Mary had an advantage because she had worked before with deaf kids as part of her job with social services and Jughead had nearly been her pupil for a year now. Betty on the other hand is simply a natural.

Her wrist and thigh wounds are nearly healed now and don’t require dressing. Not that he has dealt with that process. He would probably spontaneously combust if he was anywhere in the vicinity of her smooth bare thigh. Mary tells him that Betty wants to take up more farm work now that she’s ok. If she has noticed something off between the two she hasn’t made a comment. 

He spends his days in the corn fields with Fred. It’s almost three weeks since the last spring frost date and Fred has been fretting about being late for the first plantation by a week already. It’s hard work, the planting and takes up most of their day. Fred motions to him for a break and they sit together in comfortable silence as the wind blows a sweet melody through the tall grass. He’s going to have to keep a thorough weeding routine, at least the first three weeks. It might be a good idea to take up Betty’s offer in the fields. 

As if he can read the direction of his thoughts Fred nudges him and points towards the farmhouse. He can make out Mary sitting in one of the porch chairs with Betty by her side. They make a soothing picture, the older woman and the younger. He sits there watching them chewing on a blade of grass and feels oddly at peace. It has been so long since he felt detached enough from everything to just sit and people watch. It had been one of his life’s greatest pleasures before. Betty would make a good subject. Everything about her that irks him in the confines of the farmhouse would paint such a bright picture in wide open spaces.

They resume work and plant for another two hours or so until it begins to get cooler and the sun is low in the sky. Jughead gathers up the tools and puts them back in the storage shed quietly while Fred cleans up. Both of them make their way back to the farmhouse, Fred’s arm thrown across his shoulder. 

When Betty passes him a soup bowl for dinner that night at the table he surprises himself by smiling at her. She seems taken aback, just for a second, and then returns his with one of her own fuller lovelier ones.

He has taken to sleeping in the basement now, since Betty’s arrival. Fred and Mary sleep in a room upstairs but Betty has an affinity for the couch by the fireplace. He can sometimes make out her sleeping form when he comes upstairs at night for a drink of water.

He’s working late one night on his manuscript when he gets up for a drink again. It’s dark in the living area and he tries his hardest not to look over towards Betty’s sleeping form which is why he nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes she is in fact sitting quietly at the kitchen counter with her back to him, and from the spasmodic movement of her hunched shoulders he can tell she is crying soundlessly.

His first instinct is to quietly slip back into the basement unnoticed. He is terrible at dealing with emotional outbreaks and given his history with her so far he’ll probably make the situation worse. But there is something just so damn lonely about her sitting there crying in the middle of the night, it strikes a strange chord with him. So he walks across the kitchen making his presence known and silently fills his glass with water. It is dark in the kitchen save for the glow of the few candles and when he turns around to face her he can see she is sitting up unnaturally straight. Her face is largely hidden, partly drenched in shadows, partly obscured from view due to her golden hair falling over it. But her stance is defensive and for a second he is reminded of the girl in the woods.

He fills another glass of water and closes the distance between them to pass it to her. It’s only then he realizes her hands are clenched and there is blood on the table where she had been resting them. He reaches forward in alarm trying to unclench them but she recoils from his touch so sharply his hands freeze mid air. She is hyperventilating with her mouth wide open and Jughead can think of nothing to do to stop her panic attack so he does the only thing he can. He pulls her up into his arms and holds her still, her hands on either side of her body while his own circle her in an embrace. She is shivering uncontrollably now and her breath his coming in short bursts of air against the skin of his neck.

They just stand there for a long time until her breathing begins to even out and he slowly loosens his hold on her so that she sort of slumps into him. Jughead leads her slowly towards the chair she was sitting on and helps her sit down. Then he walks to the cabinet where Mary keeps the medical supplies and takes out the first aid kit. It is a smooth process from there. He gets her hands cleaned up, dabs some neosporin on the cuts on her palms and bandages up her wounds. Then he gently places them on the table and waits for her to look at him. 

She does eventually. Her eyes are so beautiful, large green orbs, so mesmerizing and full of so many secrets and for the first time sad in a way he has never seen before. He finds his breath catching in his throat. He’s held her in so much disdain these last few weeks. It’s hard to look in those eyes now and not see himself mirrored in the hurt. They sit there in a strange kind of trance just breathing in each other, until she moves her hand and strokes a gentle finger along his knuckles. 

“ Thank you,” she signs. This is the first time she’s used sign language with him apart from the sporadic lessons he’s given her. He feels himself flush. The girl needs to stop thanking him for things he feels partly responsible for somehow.

She seems to hesitate a little and then signs,” I used to self harm..before. It was a coping mechanism.” 

He wants to tell her she doesn’t have to tell him anything, but this little piece of her is so real he can’t help but want more. She doesn’t say anything else however and he’s content to know whatever demons were plaguing her have settled down, at least for the time being. She points towards the couch and signs,” I’d better sleep” 

He simply nods and gets up to leave. She makes her way to the couch and lies down. Jughead walks down to the basement and thinks about the many half moons on her palm. 

******

It gets better between them after that. She seems more real, more approachable somehow and he finds himself drawn to her. They often work together in the fields and where once the silence between them was uncomfortable, it is now a strange sort of companionable. 

Mary and Fred are trying to mend a broken pipe that has been leaking in the barn when he joins them one morning ready with back packs for another journey to the river. He’s going on his own this time only to get drinking water. They had lost most of their supply to their run in with the creature last time. He feels apprehensive: going alone is time saving but going alone is also risky. He has the shotgun tucked to his side.

“ Where’s Betty?” he asks Mary trying to look casual about it but failing miserably judging by the amused look Fred gives him. He can feel his neck heating up. 

“Out in the veggie patch,” she signs, “ She wanted to go with you but I still think her wrist needs a few more weeks,”

Jughead nods. There’s a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he doesn’t want to explore just now. Mary hugs him and tells him to be safe. Fred passes him a cigarette when they embrace. He doesn’t get to see Betty when he sets off and he kind of regrets it. 

The journey is pretty uneventful. He’s gotten used to this life now. The undercurrent of fear has become a constant, just like the absence of sound. The water is deliciously cool as always when he reaches the river. Once he’s filled his cans he makes his way to the waterfall to take a shower.

He strips off and lathers soap all over his body in his usual routine. His mind keeps wandering unbidden to Betty. About how undone she had looked that night, face swollen, eyes puffy from her soundless crying. How her tears had made a path from her eyes to her lips and how badly he had wanted to taste the salt of them. He thinks about how badly he wants to undo her again, not like that but pressed roughly beneath him in his bed. He’s hard and it takes all of his will power not to touch himself. He doesn’t want to defile her like that, at least not in his waking hours. He has no control over his actions in his sleep.

He makes it back in good time without any incident. Fred is working in the corn fields again when he greets him with a wave. Mary is nearby, sanding all the paths. She blows a kiss to him. He makes his way to the house to unload his backpack and the water cans. Betty is inside with a sewing kit working on some of the flowy summery dresses Mary has given her because it’s getting hotter and they are easier to wash and mend. She looks up from her mending when he comes in and smiles. He can’t help smiling back.

She puts one of the dresses on for the first time that evening and he nearly drops the gun he’s cleaning. Fred smiles at her and Mary signs how pretty she looks. Jughead’s mouth feels both dry and raw, like he’s swallowed sandpaper. He can’t stop staring at her: at the way the fabric clings to her legs, dips at her waist, flares at her breasts. She is so lovely, so ethereal, it makes his heart ache. He wants to say something, compliment her but he knows Mary and Fred are very subtly watching while seemingly engrossed in a game of chess, so he looks away and goes back to cleaning his gun. 

They have dinner when it starts to get a little dark. Betty lights the candles and the one oil lamp that hangs overhead the dining table. It gives off a lovely luminescent glow, makes the steamed rice and vegetables almost look appealing. Mary makes portions and plates them on the leaves, passes them to Betty who passes them to Fred and then Jughead. His fingers brush against hers and he can’t help his eyes as they flicker towards her face. She’s looking at him so he nods a silent thank you. She smiles softly in return and her eyes are so impossibly lovely, the fluid lines of her jaw, her neck, her collar bones so inviting. The sandpaper is back in his throat as he tries to swallow his meal.

Afterwards when Fred has retired to sleep off the ache in his joints and Mary is dozing by the fire with a book open on her lap, Jughead helps Betty clear up and fold the laundry. It feels so intimately domestic as she passes him the folded clothes and he puts them away. He taps her twice on her forearm, once the last bundle is sorted, and when she looks at him he mouths “You look lovely”.

There is a flush on the apples of her cheeks as she mouths back “ Thank you”. 

He dreams of betty again that night but it’s not dirty. There is a lovely sound of wind chimes where she sits in the porch. She wears her summer dress and her body is heavy with child.

******

They plan another trip to the river after Mary tells them the fish supply is dwindling. This is the first time Betty will accompany him instead of Fred or Mary. She has completely recovered from her injuries by now. Jughead feels nervous. Betty has never really been completely alone with him before: even in the fields they’re never really working together, only in each others field of vision.

They set out early after bidding Mary and Fred goodbye. He thinks about the last time he walked through the woods with her and there are the ghosts of a million gunshots everywhere they turn. The sandy path is wearing out in places and he’ll need to take out time to replace more sand. For now he is focused on his feet, followed closely by Betty. He looks around to check on her every few minutes. She seems alright, not as nervous as he thought she would be. Her body has such beautiful well defined muscle: it’s apparent from her toned arms and legs when she wears those dresses and from her ability to work alongside him for hours without breaking a sweat. He wonders briefly if she was one of those regular yoga girls before. It’s such an unusual thought on his part he does a mental eye roll. This girl is making him all kinds of crazy.

A sudden movement to their left has their hearts beating wildly. He can feel Betty behind him tense with fear and he holds out his hand quietly to her. She takes it and for a minute they stand there waiting. There is another movement and suddenly a racoon comes into view. It’s been so long since he saw one that he blinks at it in surprise for several long seconds. The animal looks unbothered by their presence and disappears in the wild undergrowth. There is no further sound of a pursuit and he finds himself breathing easy once again.

They make it to the river without further incident and the soothing rush of water is music to his ears. Betty looks surprised. This is probably the first time in a long while she has heard a constant sound in a world that is forever quiet. He shows her how to fill the water cans from where the river bank and bed are shallow enough to dip one’s feet in and deep enough to fill the bottles without actually having to wade in. Meanwhile he busies himself with collecting the fish from their traps. When he has enough, he pulls out the sharp knife and makes his way to the cutting stone to begin cleaning. Betty is watching with interest from a little distance. When he holds the fish in place and strikes it with his knife, the dull sound of metal against stone is barely audible, but Betty nearly drops her water bottle in shock. There is a wild panicked look in her eyes, her entire body poised to run. When he just smiles at her, the terrified look on her face morphs into a scowl. 

She makes an accusing gesture at him and signs” They’ll hear you!!”.

Jughead shakes his head and holds out his hand in a come hither motion, knife and writhing dead fish forgotten on the stone. She’s still scared, he can tell from the way she is constantly looking around, but she makes her way slowly towards him. He pulls her into the water and she steps cautiously on the shallow river bed. He leads her deeper till they are waist deep in the water, surrounded by the lull of the river flowing by. He turns to face her and pulls her closer to his body. 

Her face is set in a confused frown but she doesn’t pull away. There are a million questions in those expressive eyes of hers. They haven’t been this close in each others proximity again, not since the night of her panic attack and Jughead wonders if she has even an inkling of an idea about what he’s going to do. She doesn’t seem too unhappy about the fact that he’s close enough to kiss her. He should probably just kiss her and put himself out of his misery. Instead he cups her face, tilts her head and brings his lips close to her ear.

“ Hello Betty Cooper.” He says.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whewww...that got out of hand!!! I had a pretty clear idea of where this was going but then some bits fit and others didn't so...here we are. Also to give credit where it's due, a lot of the imagery is based on the film" A quiet place" on which this AU is based. Robert Frosts iconic lines make an appearence so thankyou sir!!!
> 
> Also smut...so fair warning 
> 
> All errors are my own so be gentle folks. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Enjoy!!

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before.” She says for what feels like the hundredth time. 

They’re sitting close to the waterfall where the sound of water is loudest, away from the spot he usually cleans the fish, on another smooth stone that serves the purpose just fine. They’ve been talking for what feels like hours but Jughead knows can’t have been more than forty or fifty minutes. She keeps coming up with questions and then engages in such abrupt delightful rambling that Jughead feels drunk on the sound of her voice. 

And God what a voice.

He’s beginning to feel like he’s at the receiving end of some elaborate joke. His life gets turned upside down by the arrival of a woman who is not only the literal embodiment of all his wildest fantasies but he is now discovering she has the voice of an angel. He’s dreading what the punch line is going to be.

After what had been, to quote Betty, the biggest shock of a lifetime, it had taken Jughead a solid fifteen minutes to coax Betty to finally say something. Her immediate reaction to his voice had been complete and utter terror, as she had tried to pull away from him frantically, looking at him like he had completely lost his mind. And when his persistently whispered it’s ok it’s ok they can’t hear us it’s ok it’s ok it’s ok had sunk in as he had tried to calm her down, Betty had done the one thing he had not anticipated or prepared for. She had started sobbing. Loudly. She had kept grasping at his shirt and taking in loud pitiful gulps of air while she cried and it would have been almost comical to watch had he not been so alarmed and confused. He had started to think this was the worst idea of his entire life when she finally calmed down, her sobs mellowing out into soft little sighs and the occasional hiccup. 

Now, about an hour later she’s still shaking her head in disbelief.

“ I can’t believe I’m hearing the sound of my own voice after...what...a year and a half?”

Jughead smiles, “ I know...when we figured it out my voice was so raspy from disuse it actually startled me. Mary kept saying it was because of all the cigarettes I’d been smoking..”

She laughs at that and he thinks I could listen to that sound all my life.

“ God it’s crazy I didn’t figure it out before. Of course it’s the one persistent sound they can’t attack or defeat or destroy. I mean back in the cities they went for the biggest machinery before anything else and once all the vehicles and generators went out it suddenly got so quiet. I remember being able to whisper with Polly when it rained...but even that felt too risky.”

She keeps going like this, unwittingly sharing parts of herself that he stores in different recesses of his mind to think about in leisure, all while he’s cleaning up the meat they need to take back. 

They eventually fall silent and it’s...nice with her like this...just the gurgling sound of water and the silence between them.

“ Hey you want to take a shower?” he asks her once he’s done with the fish and it’s been stored away in the cooler. The smell of the fish’s gut contents is offensive and he is ready to wash it off his hands.

Her sharp “What?” makes him look up from the cooler he’s now placing in his backpack.

“A shower...there’s a great spot here that I usually use...it’s nice and sheltered and ther...” he stops mid sentence at the suspicious look she’s throwing at him and flushes. Fuck. He’s not trying to imply anything: he’s just giving her a great option to actually shower, instead of the make do wet sponging they get to do at the farmhouse.

“ look,” he starts again,” I do it every time I come here and it’s pretty safe. Even Fred and Mary use the spot sometimes. I’m the last person to willingly take my clothes off in public so trust me when I say it’s very safe from prying eyes.”

Her expression softens somewhat, “ I’m sorry it just sounded odd...I didn’t mean to say...that you...I mean...” it’s her turn to flush and Jughead wants to end her misery over this entirely ridiculous conversation they’re having so he just waves at her to stop while opening his backpack again and taking out the spare clothes he always keeps in there.

“I’ll go first ok...” he tells her,” and you can take your time to figure out if the joys of semi public bathing are your cup of tea or not.” 

She just stares at him as he picks up his stuff and makes his way to the showering spot. 

It feels weird taking a shower while considering there’s a woman who is still somewhat of a stranger to him so close by. It’s something he’s never had to worry about with Fred or even Mary. He gets where that sudden apprehension had come from on her part. He’s a young man, she’s a young woman. The words naked and shower bring a lot of connotations to mind. He shakes his head. He really is setting the bar for being a dick.

When he finally makes his way back to her, she’s sitting pensively staring at the flowing water, feet dipped in. 

“ I think I’ll try it out,” she says, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on his neck, voice just a little breathless.

“Ok,” he says holding out his little bottle of soap.” It’s just up there, where you can see part of that rock jutting out “ 

Betty nods and takes the soap bottle from him gratefully. He watches her pick her way carefully towards where he’s pointing and then disappear from view. He sets about packing up their stuff and rolling up his dirty clothes as usual to be washed later. Betty appears to be enjoying her shower so he settles down with a cigarette. He’s beginning to think he should call out to check she’s ok because it’s been quite some time, when he finally hears her call, “ I’m done Jug.”

When he looks around she’s walking towards him holding out the bottle of soap. She’s wearing the same dress but it’s slightly wet now and seems to cling even more to her supple curves. His throat suddenly feels dry and he wonders briefly whether Mary might actually be right about the cigarettes.

“It was lovely...the water,” she sighs happily, running her fingers through her wet blonde hair, “ I’m sorry I doubted you in the first place.”

Jughead shrugs at her, handing the smaller of the back packs to her and strapping his own bigger one on. 

“No really...I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here. First the talking and then the showering. I feel like I just washed off a year’s worth of grime” she smiles at him tilting her head slightly

“ Well I’m glad I was of service milady” he says bowing at her in mock courtesy and her smile grows wider.

They start walking away from the waterfall towards the point that is closest to their sandy trail when she looks back longingly and says,” I still feel so giddy I keep thinking I’ll break into one of my old cheerleading routines and start singing at the top of my voice!”

“ Wait what? You were a cheerleader?” he asks incredulously stopping abruptly.

“ Yeah! And a very good one at that I’ll have you know!!”

He shakes his head, “ That makes so much sense.”

Her eyes narrow but there’s a smile on her lips, “ What’s that supposed to mean? Are you telling me you had a problem with cheerleaders?”

He grins at her,” Let’s not open that can of worms. But I’ll say this...If there was ever a cheerleader I could have liked, it would be you Betty Cooper.”

Her snort is so undignified and uncharacteristic he can’t help laughing.

“ Maybe I can show you some of my moves sometime and let you be the judge of that...” She says coyly and he pretty much chokes on his own laugh.

******

They make their way back to the farmhouse, this time with Betty leading in front of him. Now that they are silent again he has nothing else to focus on and his eyes keep wandering to the gorgeous sway of her hips as she walks barefoot on the sandy path. It’s abysmal, he thinks, how he’s being a caveman as soon as her mouth shuts up. It’s like he’s reducing her intelligence and worth to her physical appearance only and he kind of hates himself for it. He’s better than that. She had been just so damn friendly despite all the initial shitty behaviour on his part. It had been so easy to talk to her. And now he’s back to ogling her ass. He needs to stop acting like a fucking teenager. 

When they get back it’s almost dusk and Jughead is feeling really hungry. He makes his way in side followed by Betty who stops on the way first to collect some of the dried laundry on the clothes line. When she comes inside, he’s already sitting at the counter eating the sandwiches that Mary has left for them although she’s no where in sight. Betty puts away the fresh laundry to sort out for later. Then she takes off her back pack, placing it next to where he’d dumped his own. She’s opening them to unload the water cans when he motions for her to stop.

“ Eat something first.” He signs,” I’ll do it later.”

Surprisingly enough she just nods and comes to sit beside him, picking up a sandwich to nibble on. She’s a careful eater he’s noticed before. 

“ Where’s Mary?” she signs.

He’s about to shrug when he spots Mary coming down the stairs. He points to her and waves a silent hello when Mary comes over to join them. Betty immediately gets up and gives her a hug that Mary returns with a smile. Jughead finds himself intrigued by this exchange.

“ Was it ok...at the river?” Mary signs smiling while she looks at Betty and he nods, as Betty proceeds to tell her about the surprise he’d given her.

Jughead finishes his sandwich and starts unloading the bags while the two women continue to talk. Then he goes upstairs to check whether Fred’s woken up. It’s dark in the room and he can make out the older man’s sleeping form from the open doorway. The sound of his quiet snores is comforting as always. He walks up to the bed. There is a slight frown across Fred’s brow that has a pang of worry clutching at Jughead’s heart. He’s been suffering from headaches again.

Jughead just stands there looking at him and for some reason he can’t stop thinking about Archie. Archie: ten years old, flaming red hair running around chasing after Vegas with him. Archie: sixteen years old, glowing golden boy with the charming smile chasing after girls without him. Archie twenty two over the phone recounting his latest conquest during their weekly online video game session and she’s the one jug I’m telling you she’s...oh FUCK dude sorry I didn’t see that one!!!

His hastily eaten sandwich feels like a ton of bricks in the pit of his stomach as he leaves the room

******

Fred’s diabetes is giving them trouble. 

They have a glucometer they know how to work, so they know his random and fasting blood sugar is no where near the range it should be. 

Every morning when Mary tests him with a small prick on his finger, Jughead can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. And he feels absolutely helpless because there is nothing they can fucking do about it. The pharmacies were the first and foremost loot point for anyone who had planned to survive the apocalypse. Fred’s prescription for sugar control is something he knows by heart. Tab Glucophage 500 mg is the first thing his eyes scan for at every possible pharmacy and general store with a drug section. But there is only so much Glucophage that can be found at the limited number of already ravaged stores they have access to. They’ve tried several other drugs that had similar indications printed on the little pamphlets given inside but it’s been a gamble between good sugar control and life threatening hypoglycaemia without proper dosage advice from a physician and their one attempt at using insulin had been a major disaster.

Now as he watches Mary take a little strip from the small pocket sized box and place it in the tiny machine he can’t help but feel his anxiety spike. Mary places a finger over the little part that goes beep when the machine is ready to test the blood sample. Fred holds out his hand with a resigned expression on his face and winces slightly when Mary pricks him. She holds his finger still and lets some of the blood trickle onto the strip. Jughead waits with bated breath and when Mary holds up the glucometer to check the reading he cranes his neck to read it too. 

It’s not good.

His eyes flicker helplessly towards Mary. Fred is out of the chair in a second and making his way out the door towards the fields, as if he can’t stand being in there with them. Betty is already hard at work weeding in the newly planted second crop of corn and Jughead watches as the older man takes up a hoe and joins her. 

He slumps in the chair next to Mary where she is packing up the little apparatus back into it’s box.

“ What now?” he signs eventually when she makes no attempt to say anything.

“ Nothing. You know that.” She signs back and Jughead can see the muscle ticking in her jaw. His own leg is bouncing on the tip of his left foot. It’s one of his nervous ticks along with the neck rubbing. He begins shaking his head as soon as he sees Mary’s expression hardening.

“ Jug we’ve talked about this before. I’m not going to exhaust myself over another futile conversation.” Her hand movements are frustrated but he’s not backing away this time.

“We have Betty now...It’s not like I’ll be alone this time.” He signs  
.  
Mary narrows her eyes at him and signs,” I’m not going to ask that of her,”

“ Well I’m not going to sit around waiti..”

She effectively cuts him off when a single tear slips past her eyes. He’s reaching out for her before she can even wipe it away. “Don’t” he mouths at her shaking his head, eyes pleading, “Please don’t.”

She sits with her head in her hands and Jughead feels like he can’t inflate his lungs enough to get a proper deep breath.. Mary has been holding them together for so long now it’s killing him to see her breaking down like this.

He lifts her chin with his finger tips, “We’ll figure it out. Ok?”

She just nods and gives him a watery smile. It’s not the one he’s used to but he’ll take it. 

After what feels like a very long day they have an early dinner of baked fish and steamed vegetables. Betty has caught on to the slightly tense environment in the room and is trying to overcompensate by jumping up to try and be helpful every chance she gets. It’s beginning to stretch his nerves again, her constant movement. The girl really needs to let things be. It’s not her job to make everything right. Mary thankfully, is deep in thought and apparently doesn’t notice anything or she would probably be irritated too. Fred on the other hand seems perfectly at ease with a pleasant expression plastered on his face that completely belies the underlying exhaustion. Jughead sits at the table just looking between the three of them until his own head begins to feel twice it’s size. 

He escapes to the basement as soon as the table is cleared and he’s not wanted for anything in particular. Mary has already left for bed making it clear she doesn’t want to engage in any kind of conversation for the time being while Fred and Betty sit down for their usual game of monopoly or scrabble. He notices Betty gently inquiring if he’d rather just lie down and read on the couch but Fred is apparently either feeling better or just trying to prove to him and Mary that they have no cause for worry, so she sets up the board game at the dinning table. 

Downstairs, he sits at his desk in front of all the monitors, pouring over the multiple maps they have collected over the year with details of the tri-state area. He feels trapped and frustrated. Fred isn’t going to get better without his medication. Mary has to understand they’re going to have to take a risk at some point. And it’s not like Betty can’t handle it. If even half of what she’s told them about herself is true she’s a fucking pro at cross country hiking while effectively avoiding death at the hands of the creatures. She would want to help, he knows that. 

As if willed by the simple force of his thoughts he looks up from his chair to find Betty coming down the stairs with a mug of some of Mary’s herbal tea judging from the aroma. She hesitates at the last step and when he raises an eyebrow at her, walks up to him with the mug.

“ I thought you’d like a cup of tea.” She signs.

“ I don’t drink that,” he signs back, “ever...”

She looks a little stricken as she simply mouths ”oh”. Then she pulls back a chair and sits down without waiting to ask for permission, unlike last time his mind provides. They sit there quietly not really looking at each other. The silence between them is...well it’s not strained, but it’s not like the comfortable friendly banter they had engaged in, at the river. In the quiet when he can communicate with her only when they’re looking at each other, it’s hard not to focus on the shape of her lips when she mouths her words, or the delicacy of her wrists when she signs to him. In the quiet he is so much more aware of his ever increasing attraction to her and the fact that she is so completely enticing and how her proximity both arouses and frustrates him.

She puts an effective stop to his train of thought by finally looking at him and signing” What are we going to do about Fred?”

Jughead blinks at her several times unsure of how he’s supposed to respond. What are they supposed to do about Fred?

She seems to take his inability to form a response as a simple misunderstanding of her question because she signs,” I mean his medication..”

Jughead shakes his head finally and signs,” Nothing. There isn’t anything left at the town stores and we’re out of all the stock we had.”

“ So?” she signs eyes widening,” What about the next town.”

“ I tried it...there’s nothing. The biggest pharmacy got burned. There were others but there was nothing left.”

“ ok..” she signs again,” what about the next town?”

He feels a sudden flare of anger and he directs it in his stare towards her. His irritation is quickly taking precedence over everything else he was feeling for her just a minute ago. Does she think he’s unbothered or just too damn lazy to try. He fucking wants to try...his entire argument with Mary is over that one single point. He wants to try but she won’t let him.

“Please tell me,” she signs again laying a soft hand on his arm and though he flinches visibly she doesn’t withdraw it.

Jughead sighs tiredly. This is so not a story he wants to tell her, at least now when he’s already exhausted with today’s events. Some of his deepest most crippling fears are rooted in that memory and it’s an ugly place to revisit. But he’d just been contemplating asking this girl for help and if he still wants that he’ll have to tell her.

“ The last time I was gone...something happened and I got stuck in a town” he signs and just the memory of it has his heart rate accelerating. He swallows down the rising bile and begins again.” I was gone for three weeks and...well I made it back obviously but Mary and Fred thought I was dead all that time.”

She’s looking at him, lips parted slightly, her attention focused on him so as not to miss anything he’s telling her.

“ They refused to let me go alone after that. Fred can’t make the journey and we can’t leave him alone. I go on my own to our town and the one next to it but beyond that is unchartered territory...I’m not familiar with the routes.”

He stops there. It’s enough information for her to get a general idea of their predicament without needing to go into details he would rather not talk about. Betty, thankfully doesn’t seem to need more either because she just nods and slowly moves forward to take a look at the maps that are scattered all over the desk. 

They sit there for an awfully long time and Jughead is beginning to seriously consider asking her to leave when she finally looks up and signs, “Lets do it.”

He raises his brow at her and mouths, “What?”

“The journey...lets make it...We can plan a trip and get the medication. You wouldn’t be alone and I’m good at reading maps. We could make it.” Her hand movements are focused and precise and he thinks Fuck she’s good at this.

What he signs back is,” Mary says she won’t ask it of you.”

Betty smiles. It’s sly this smile. Not the usual sweet one. But it has his heart racing all the same.

“Leave the convincing to me..” she signs.

And all he can do is stare at her owlishly as she leaves, taking the tea mug with her.

 

When he comes upstairs next morning Betty is up and about quietly packing an odd assortment of things into two back packs. The Andrews are sitting at the table looking at her with a mixture of defeat and awe and on Mary’s part some degree of exasperation. When Jughead joins them she looks at him pointedly as if to say I know this is your doing.

“What’s going on?” he signs because his brain is genuinely confused and still half asleep.

“Apparently you and Betty are going on a journey.” Mary responds, “ I have no idea why I’m even considering this.” 

Jughead is feeling too relieved suddenly to come up with an appropriate response. He might as well keep his mouth shut and go with the flow.

******

They’ve been walking for two days now. It’s a routine developed by Betty. They start out at dawn and cover maximum ground in the early hours. The light is enough to give them sharp focus and it’s cool enough for the heat to not be overwhelming. At noon they take a break, eating a quick lunch of canned soup or vegetables and dozing for an hour or two before starting off again till it’s too dark to walk without a light. The risk of walking at night is associated with decreased awareness of their surrounding and the inability to anticipate any risk in an unfamiliar area. The simple snapping of a twig can give them away and ultimately the desire to conserve time isn’t worth the risk.

He has a general idea of the direction they are going but Betty is focused in a way he has never seen before. There is a nervous energy radiating off her that fuels him too. She is determined on doing this right and following her now he thinks I could trust this woman with my life.

She turns around to look at him every now and then and he gives her a reassuring smile every time. 

It’s strange and surreal, the reality of his existence and hers. He’s felt such a bizarre contradiction of emotions for her: disdain, begrudging respect, frustration, arousal, pity, empathy and now more than anything a deep sense of comradeship. She’s his partner in crime. 

It means so much to him to have her here with him, ready to put everything at risk for the health of a man he loves like a father. He feels so much gratitude for her and it’s unlike all the feelings he’s had for her in the months they’ve known each other.

It’s a grossly unfair bargain on her end. All she’s getting is a grumpy sarcastic asshole who still has problems dealing with his growing attraction for her and insecurities so deep rooted she’d probably end up dead just trying to dig them out.

Betty turns around abruptly breaking him out of his reverie as she points to a sign board at the side of the road. 

The town they’re planning on visiting is only 17 km away.

Jughead feels a sudden jolt that may just be joy. In another two hours they could be entering the town. If everything goes smoothly and they find the medicine they might as well be on their way back within today. They could be home in less than four days since they had started out. 

Betty is thinking along the same lines because their gait is suddenly more purposeful and energetic.

 

Sure enough they reach town outskirts within the two hour limit, a little out of breath from their brisk walk but feeling hopeful and completely satisfied with their progress.

Jughead tries not to think about the deserted houses with their broken windows and the broken vehicles littering the road haphazardly. He tries not looking at the unkempt gardens with their washed out fences. It’s a dangerous place to visit and he keeps his mind intentionally occupied with only finding the pharmacy. 

He keeps his eyes on the road and notices a very pretty stone lying a little to his right. He bends down and picks it up. It’s a strange mixture of colours and smooth to touch. Mary would like it he thinks as he pockets it. From the corner of his eye he can tell Betty is watching him curiously.

The first pharmacy they find has been completely looted and there’s so much broken debris and glass on the floor that even stepping inside is a risk. They stand outside debating quietly whether they should risk it or not when he decides they should check out the other two they have listed out. They can always come back if they need.  
The next pharmacy is pretty much the same but it’s less damaged and they find some useful antibiotics and analgesics, but none of Fred’s antidiabetic medicine. He tries desperately to quell the rising disappointment in his chest. 

It’s the third shop where simultaneously they hit the jackpot and shit hits the fan.

He’s a little wary of entering this store in the first place because it’s a big store serving as both the biggest pharmacy and general store and in his experience the larger the closed space the greater is the uncalculated risk. He signs as much to Betty. She seems to consider this but eventually decides to go in anyway beckoning him to follow. He does.

Inside it’s the same scene he’s witnessed hundreds of times before. Abandoned shop wares displayed on shelves coated in a thick layer of dust. There are a million things he can see that look tempting enough to pick out immediately but they won’t have a lot of space left after placing the medicine cartons in first. So he needs to be careful and prioritize. 

They make a beeline for the section where all the drugs are placed. This place is in much better shape than most of the other stores and he’s beginning to feel a little hopeful.

They skim through the shelves until Betty points at one with an excited little wave.

Bingo.

There’s a section labelled  
Antihypertensive/Antidiabetic/Antiasthmatic.

Hands shaking with anticipation he reaches forward, sorting through the drugs until

Bingo.

It’s what they need. Tab Glucophage 500 mg. Cartons and cartons of it. Betty is already taking off her backpack and picking out the cartons with a huge smile on her face. He’s with her the next second and they spend the next ten minutes trying to fit in as much of the medicine they can carry. 

His heart is feeling so fucking light already he could just get up and break into song. Or no. He could grab Betty and kiss her senseless. Much better idea.  
When what seems like at least two years worth of medicine has been packed into the back packs, they figure it’s enough. They’ll expire beyond that anyway. Jughead figures that’s a bridge they can cross when the time comes.

“That’s it.” He motions to Betty who nods.

On their way out they stay close to each other carefully stepping between the debris littering the floor picking out things at random, mostly things he knows they’ve run out of at their town store. His anxiety is mounting. This place is a potential landmine and the sooner they leave the easier he’ll breathe. 

Betty turns around and motions for him to wait.

“ What? “ he signs back looking at her incredulously,” We need to stay together.”

She shakes her head. “It won’t take long,” she signs again and before he can stop her she’s gone, disappearing through a door. 

He tries to stamp down the prickling sense of irritation he feels. 

She’s been gone all of five minutes when he decides to follow her anyway and he’s about to take a step in that direction when a slight motion to his left has his heart beating frantically. He turns in the direction of the movement trying to gulp down the fear. 

It’s a woman. She looks to be in her mid thirties with wild dishevelled blonde hair and tattered clothes. She appears to be a little disoriented and she’s bleeding and alarm bells are going off in Jughead’s mind even as she reaches for the nearest shelf to hold on to for support.

Wrong move.

The entire shelf with it’s assortment of different glass ware comes crashing to the floor in a sound so loud it must have the entire population of the area jumping out of their graves. He hasn’t even registered this disaster when he hears the tell tale sound of galloping hooves and the wild screeching of the creatures.

They’re inside the store the next instant breaking through the brick wall like it’s made of cardboard. He falls to the ground when another shelf comes crashing down on him as a result of the impact. The creatures shriek again trying to localize the source of the sound but there is so much noise it’s hard to focus as he crouches low hardly daring to breathe.

Even in it’s fear crazed state, his mind registers that they seem different. For such large creatures their movements have always been completely precise...almost choreographed like a macabre ballet ...the dance of death....whereas now in the confines of the store they seem almost disoriented. As if the ability to pinpoint exactly the source of that offending noise is hard to localize. It’s a strange sight to behold as the three creatures prowl between shelves, swaying a little like they’re drunk. 

Betty!!shit!shit!shit!

She’s effectively trapped and the creatures seem to be moving that way. He has no idea where the other blonde woman has disappeared but if she is anywhere near Betty it’s a threat. The woman had seemed almost crazy. He can’t trust her to keep it together and not give them away.

He needs to create a distraction. The only way to draw them away from Betty is to create a sound loud enough to mask all the noise in her general direction. He can do that. The little alarm clocks they had placed in their back packs for this exact purpose come to mind but there’s not enough time for that. There’s the stone in his pocket, he remembers suddenly. If he angles it right he could hit the shelf with most of the metal pans. That might just create enough noise to draw them out. Another hit to the glass window and they could be out. 

He takes out the pebble and takes aim. It hits exactly where he wants and the metallic pan tilts over falling down, taking with it multiple other large sized utensils and creating a general racket. It has the desired effect and all three of the creatures are turning immediately in the direction of the sound when out of nowhere the other woman starts screaming. 

His entire body paralyzes with fear. The woman is screaming her head off and the creatures are bounding in her direction already, the noise from his distraction all but forgotten. She’s screaming exactly where he’d seen Betty disappear and if something happens to her he’ll never forgive himself.

The screaming stops as abruptly as it had started as soon as the creatures reach her and all Jughead can think is not Betty not Betty not Betty please God not Betty. The creatures are making the weird screeching noises they make every time they kill something and Jughead feels nauseous as the scent of fresh blood fills the room. He has to pull himself together. It’s only a matter of time till they reach Betty if they haven’t gotten her already.

The simple thought of that has a physical pain jerking him up so suddenly he reels from the shock of it. He picks up the first thing he can lay his hands on. It’s a broken toy truck and he hurls it across the room with so much force it not only hits a shelf on the way but zooms right out of the glass window creating another huge commotion. He waits with bated breath and sure enough all three of the creatures are again bounding in the direction of the noise. By some miracle they seem to decide the source of sound has exited the store because they finally leave still trying to follow the sound trail.

He’s up and running towards where he’d last seen her, almost not caring about how loud he is until he realizes how stupid that is. He slows down and heart beating madly makes his way through the door where she had gone.

She’s huddled in a corner shrinking into herself with her head between her knees. He sags to the floor in relief and crawls up to her, heart hammering while his mind is screaming on repeat she’s ok she’s ok she’s ok she’s ok!

She looks up pupils dilated with fear and mouth open in a silent scream but the second she realizes it’s him she is up and bounding towards him.

He holds his arms open and she falls into his embrace soundlessly. Her heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to explode. Or maybe that’s his heart, he can’t really say. Betty’s face is wet with tears and her teeth are chattering so badly she has to bite her lips to keep them from making a noise. Jughead pulls her up and spreads her legs so that she’s straddling his lap and hugs her so close there isn’t an inch of space between them. Her hands are curled into fists closeted between their bodies and it hits him suddenly that she’s wounding herself when he sees the blood trickling down her wrists.

Oh baby don’t

He pries her hands open forcefully and intertwines them with his own and then bringing them up, kisses them gently and if some of the blood smears on his face he can’t bring himself to care. The silent sobs racking her body are subsiding somewhat and now that the adrenaline rush is over they simply slump into the comfort of each others bodies. There is no sound in the once again empty store. 

For the utter chaos and desperation of a few minutes before his heart feels suddenly at peace and when Betty finally lets go of his hands and pushes herself away from him to get up, Jughead can’t bear it. So he does the one thing he wants to do more than anything else. He cups her face and captures her bitten bruised lips in a kiss.

******

He doesn’t remember much about the return journey.

He remembers they make it out of the store after what feels like hours and hours of waiting. He remembers passing by the eviscerated body of the other blonde and feeling absolutely numb. He remembers the stickiness of Betty’s blood on his hands as they walk side by side in the once again deserted streets of the town. 

But the one thing he remembers in the sharpest detail is the feel of Betty’s warm pliant lips on his own. 

Now that the horror of that encounter has passed and they are already one day’s journey in to their trek back to the farmhouse, he finds his brain feels tired and useless because the only thing on repeat in his head is Betty’s reaction in the aftermath of his kiss. Of how when she had finally pulled back her eyes were guarded and wary. Almost afraid. And reluctant to meet his.

He had put it down initially to the shock of the entire incident but now that it’s been two days he can’t help but feel despair at how aloof she’s behaving. She’s unwilling to confront what happened and he’s ok with that but she could at least try and be less indifferent.

He knows she’s exhausted too. He can see it in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the drained out almost sallow appearance of her otherwise flawless skin. He can see it in the trembling of her hands sometimes and in the now bandaged crescents on her palms. But unlike him she is focused and hell bent in using the last bit of her energy in getting them home. And she seems to be doing it at the cost of his feelings.

So he follows her like a zombie. He stops when she tells him and starts when she’s ready. He eats their canned food in her silent company and curls into her ever night when they huddle together for warmth. But their touches feel mechanical and strange. He wants to ask her what’s wrong. He want’s to ask her why she’s withdrawn into herself especially now that they’ve survived that terrible encounter together and come out alive and well and intact to tell the tale.

He wants to say he’s sorry.

But the words won’t come and Betty won’t look at him and for now home is still a long way to go. And though there is no snow it’s quiet in the woods that are dark and deep. And he has promises to keep. 

******

To say Mary and Fred are relieved when they get back is putting it mildly. Fred nearly falls off the ladder he’s standing on trying to fix some roof tiles. And Mary, dear, sweet, brave Mary holds him for fifteen minutes straight sobbing into his shirt until she has to be pried away. Then she repeats the exercise with Betty. 

“Never again.” She signs drying her eyes, “never again”

But when Betty opens her back pack and gives Mary the carton of medication, she tears up again and this time it’s all gratitude.

 

Betty and him...they’re back to square one. 

It’s a fucking vicious cycle if ever there was one.

Once the excitement of the entire trip is over and he’s had a good long night’s worth of sleep, Jughead is still struggling to analyse the situation. And what he feels can be summarized in three words: resentful, misunderstood and well...heartbroken.

Betty has learned a new art and it’s called the art of avoiding Jughead Jones.

She spends her days glued to either Mary or Fred. Every time he tries to engage her, she is either too busy or her body language is so intensely uncomfortable that eventually he has to back off. She’s avoiding him and she isn’t even being subtle about it. 

He tries complaining to Mary.

“Maybe she’s just a little shocked with the encounter you had,” she signs, “You were pretty concerned she was way too normal about it the first time..”

Jughead doesn’t miss the underlying jab and shuts up on the subject around Mary after that.

He considers confronting Betty about it, but she hardly lets him get within a two meter radius before she’s running away, off to do some errand, or fix a mess or fuck knows what. It’s killing him this hesitancy and unwillingness on her part to even communicate with him. If it really is a coping thing then he’ll understand completely of course and she can have all the fucking space she needs but the least she can do is fucking tell him.

If it’s because of that stupid kiss she can pick any mouth wash she wants and he’ll fucking get it for her himself. He’ll happily help her wash off any remnants of his mouth from her lips. 

They have dinner that night consisting of canned soup and vegetables and though it’s something he doesn’t particularly enjoy, the simple routine of their dinners affords him some comfort. When he holds out his bowl for a refill she meets his eyes for a second and it sends a jolt of hope shooting up his spine but then she looks away just as quickly and he can’t help but feel a crushing sense of disappointment.

Mary helps him clear up the table while Fred settles down in his Barcalounger with a book. He has started taking his tablet and though it’s just been two days Jughead can already feel the slight change that improved sugar control is bringing.

He notices with a pang that Betty has disappeared again, in order to avoid him no doubt. He grimaces. She’s being so fucking childish. It’s not like she can avoid him for the rest of her life. He sighs resignedly and takes his leave from the Andrews who are settled down for a game of chess. Mary shoots him a slightly worried look but he doesn’t want to address it. He just wants to go down and wallow in his misery.

He tries to sleep it off, this restlessness, but sleep won’t come. It’s been two hours since he came down and all he can think about is Betty. He gets up, pacing about the room, trying to calm his nerves and craving a cigarette. He makes it a rule to never smoke inside out of respect for Mary but maybe he can bend the rule just this once. 

He lights a cigarette and sits down at his desk chair. He still feels out of sorts but the smoke in his lungs soothes him down a little. He’s thinking again about everything. Maybe she feels like he crossed a line at the store. He had been so fucking scared out of his mind he hardly knew what he was doing. And she did hug him back. It shouldn’t be awkward that they shared an intimate moment in the face of a near death experience. Yeah ok he kissed her, maybe about a thousand times but it wasn’t exactly a lover’s kiss. He hadn’t meant to freak her out. Surely she knows this, that it came from a place of pure relief and gratitude for her well being. They’ve opened up to being friends finally. Why is she being so elusive now. He wants so much with her but if he can’t have that he wants at least to be her friend. 

He wonders if this his punishment for how he’d been with her before. For shutting her out from time to time when she was trying to reach out. Now that he’s at the receiving end of things and she’s seen how vulnerable he is, she gets to hold the cards and play her moves. But this is Betty, she is everything that is selfless and giving . This is Betty. He knows how her mind works, or he thinks he does...doesn’t he? She’s not petty like that. He is deserving of everything she might throw his way for how callous he’d been but not for this...not for wanting her to be safe...not for wanting it more than his own safety...even at the cost of it.

His mind feels exhausted but it won’t shut down. Part of him, the baser part wants to go up to her and shake her up and demand an explanation. And part of him wants to shut her out too and be mean and hurtful. But the biggest part of him wants to crawl up to her and beg her to forgive him for whatever needs forgiving and punish him for whatever needs punishing but please God let her not be a stranger like this.

He’s so caught up in his own head in this stupid downhill spiral that it takes it a minute for him to actually register there is someone standing on the last step of the basement stairs. He looks up and the cigarette drops from his hand.

It’s Betty.

But it’s Betty like he’s never seen her before.

She’s wearing something that resembles a dress but it’s...lacier and suggestive in a way he is sure she would never wear it in front of Mary or Fred and especially not him if it wasn’t for a very singular purpose. And her hair is down. And God she’s...she’s exquisite. His jaw feels permanently unhinged, his hands feel clammy and his heartbeat is so fucking loud can she not hear it? 

She seems to be hovering on the edge of both the stairs and an unmade decision. Jughead stands up slowly, but he cannot bring himself to move, not even when she takes a tentative step towards him, then another. He stands still frozen to his spot and all he can think with his half functioning brain is that she’s completely changing the playing field here. She’s going to walk up to him and he won’t ever recover from what happens after that. 

She is so close to him now that he can feel her hot breath every time she exhales. His own breathing is erratic like his heartbeat and his hands are so sweaty his fingers seem to slip out of his control as they suddenly reach out and grip her arms.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve been,” she begins signing and there is just a hint of wetness in her eyes and he can’t stand her saying sorry but before he can stop her she puts a finger to his lips.

“I need to tell you” she begins again, her fingers trembling a little,” I’m scared of what this is between us” she waves between the little space between them. Then she signs,” But I can’t fight it anymore.”

Oh baby

When she lifts her hands to tenderly cup his face and pulls him down, his lips part of their own accord to meet her soft tentative ones.

It’s how he’s always kissed her in his dreams, with pent up longing and so much desire, his heart seizes painfully. She pushes her mouth against his first softly then building up in a frenzied motion, her hand gripping his hair almost painfully and he has a hard time following her lips with his own so they end up banging their teeth and it would be funny if she wasn’t breathing so harshly like it’s hard for her to draw enough air. His own hands seem unable to stay still. He’s gripping her neck, her face, cradling her jaw then looping his arms around her to pull her flush against him. He is hard already and she must feel it because she suddenly steps back and Jughead is about to protest the loss of contact when she pulls up the hem of her dress and slips it off. She is completely naked underneath.

He forgets how to breathe or at least it feels like it.

She is all of his desires and wants and every single sharp tug of longing he has ever felt shaped in woman. She is so beautiful and vulnerable in her open longing for him it makes him want to devour her, consume all that longing so that she has no empty parts left to give. This time when she looks up to him, eyes soft and slightly worried, he doesn’t wait for her to move. He takes the two steps separating them and picks her up in his arms. 

He wants to lay her down in a bed of roses. He wants candles and music and the soft glow of moonlight through the window. Everything is happening too fast and he wants so much for her, so she’ll know how dearly he adores her, how dearly he wants her. But what he has is a musty basement and a ratty mattress and the complete absence of words. 

So he lays her down and kisses her thoroughly to make up for the words he can’t speak. He pushes her legs apart and lies between them engulfed in her scent and the feel of her skin and the pleasure of it is so overwhelming he wonders how he’s going to survive through the rest of it.

She seems to want more however as she pulls at his shirt and he sits back to take it off and then pushes his jeans and boxers off too. Her eyes take him in and he is so hard he rubs himself against her to relieve the ache. His fingers find her breasts and palm her roughly so that she keens with pleasure. Then he bends and takes a nipple into his mouth. 

A moan escapes her and he clamps his hand sharply on her mouth as both of them freeze, staring at each other. Her eyes are huge, the haziness of desire now marred by a sudden sharp fear that reflects his own. In the complete quiet of the basement, their laboured breathing seems to be magnified so that it is the only thing he can hear. There appears to be no other disturbance however, he figures she can’t have been that loud. They’re ok and it’s safe. 

There is a film of wetness in her eyes that trickles down one corner and he has the sudden urge to lick it away. He runs his tongue from the corner of her lips to the shell of her ear and tastes her tears half way. She lets out a shuddering breath and the hold on his bicep tightens while her other hand grips the hair at the nape of his neck. Her face is flushed with the light sheen of sweat and now the tears that come unbidden. He presses his hand over her mouth again and then draws it away, only to run his knuckles tenderly across her cheek and wipe away her tears. “ Quietly” he mouths at her and presses his finger to her lips again. She opens her mouth as if in invitation and he puts his finger in her mouth. She sucks on it and the sensation goes straight to his dick.

“Condom” she mouths to him and points to her discarded dress. 

Fuck. He’s not even thinking straight and she came all prepared.

He’s tumbling out of bed and bounding towards the dress in a blur of movement. There is a little pocket in the side and inside it there are several condoms and a pair of tiny sharp scissors.

Of course.

God this woman is so perfect he’s going to lose his god damn mind. With fingers that are slightly shaky he cuts open the little foil packet and takes out the condom. 

He’s back in bed and hovering over her and she smiles so softly it makes a lump in his throat that’s hard to swallow. He touches her then and she’s so wet it parts his lips in shock. She’s biting her lips to keep from moaning out as he continues to rub her, circling her clit in soft slow rhythmic motions as his fingers delve deeper into her folds. She’s already trembling and he can feel the tightening of her tense muscles as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. She comes soundlessly in a fluttering of muscles around his fingers as her mouth opens in a wide o. He can’t help grinning smugly at how undone she looks.  
He wipes away some of the sweat from her forehead, pushing away the stray hairs sticking to her face and she is so gorgeous in her post orgasmic glow he can’t help kissing her passionately. He feels her reach for him and take his hard length in her hands. She helps him put on the condom and lines him again with her. He enters her in one thrust and finally finally he is inside her and oh God the pleasure is so acute he’s going to come this second and embarrass himself.

He pulls through the feeling, resting his forehead on hers and taking deep slow breaths. The feeling of his skin on hers is so erotic he has a hard time remembering anything else. He’s moving again now, fervid strokes while his breath comes out in short bursts of air against her neck. Betty moves her hips in a rotatory motion in tandem with his and their combined efforts have him coming hard as he empties himself in her with the last of his stuttered thrusts.

He pretty much collapses on top of her utterly spent. He can feel his heartbeat thundering against hers and he realizes she must be nearly crushing under his weight. So he slides off her, pulling out slowly as he notices the slight wince that forms on her face. He discards the used condom and lies down again pulling her into his side. 

They lie there just looking at each other quietly for sometime, while he runs a hand along her spine and swallows the soft sighs that she lets out from time to time.

“ I have something for you,” she signs abruptly getting up and pushing herself off the bed. He lays down and watches her walk naked towards her discarded dress. The curve of her ass is so gorgeous he’s beginning to feel the faint stirring of arousal in the pit of his stomach again already. She joins him again in his bed, completely at ease with her nudity in front of him and he finds himself grinning at her for no reason at all. She has a small bag in her hand made of some kind of velvety fabric and she holds it out to him. He puts his hand inside curiously and pulls out what feels like little beads.

It’s m&ms.

He let’s out a surprised little soundless laugh. It’s been so long since he tasted any kind of candy just holding one in his hand makes him feel giddy. He pops one in his mouth and nearly lets out an audible groan at the smooth sugary taste of it. She’s watching him with half lidded eyes and he feels such a rush of affection for her he surges forward and captures her lips again in what is half part passion and half part gratitude.

“ How did you get these?” he signs.

“ I’m an expert silent candy thief..” she signs back grinning,” I literally lived off candy bars in the last few weeks before coming here.”

They lie side by side exchanging the chocolatey treats with each other and lazily kissing till the candy breaks get fewer and the kissing gets headier. He’s hard again, against her thigh and as he pushes her on her back he feels her reach down to take him in her hands but he pulls her hand back and entwines it with his own. Then very slowly he begins kissing her jaw, her neck, then her collar bone, each of her perfect breasts where he sucks the nipples softly then runs his tongue in the valley between them. 

Her breathing is strained again and he can feel her heartbeat, insanely fast under his lips when he kisses her there. He continues to move down and somewhere in the haze of her desire she seems to catch on to what he’s planning because she lets go of his hands and cradles his face trying to pull him back up mouthing,” you don’t have to.” 

He pulls away catching both her hands in his and dropping a quick kiss on the inside of her wrists and then placing them gently at her side. Then very firmly he pushes her back and begins his descent down her body again. When he dips his tongue in her belly button he can feel her muscles quivering and the involuntary widening of her legs. He presses one last kiss on her hip and then simply puts his mouth on her. She keens and he can feel the slight tremble of her thighs. She tastes like the sweetness of chocolate and the tang of her arousal and he is so turned on he feels lightheaded.

When she comes this time her hands are already clamped over her mouth and no sound escapes.

 

He wakes up to an empty bed and the lingering scent of Betty. For a minute he just lies there, relishing the looseness in his limbs and the feeling of complete satiety. Quite nothing like the woman you’ve been lusting after for months coming over in the middle of the night and blowing up your brains with sex and chocolate he muses. There is a stupid smile on his face that he needs to dampen before she realizes how utterly gone he is for her. 

He gets up and looks around for his hastily discarded clothes from last night. He finds them neatly folded on a chair along with a note.

Hey!! It reads, (the smile is back with that one word), I figured it would be less awkward to not show up together for breakfast so I’ll be upstairs. Thank you for last night...it was amazing for me. I hope it was for you too. There’s another little treat for you in your jeans pocket. XOXO Betty. 

He finds a mini snickers bar in the pocket of his jeans, already opened but wrapped in tissue paper. Oddly enough it’s the tissue that lodges something in his throat and makes his teeth ache. He is no longer smiling because there is a strange kind of hurt in his chest that seems to expand with his lungs but feels almost sweet. He looks at himself in the mirror that hangs by the little table he uses for his toiletries and it’s hard to recognize the happy man that looks back. 

******

When he finally does come upstairs he finds Mary and Betty already laying the table while Fred is peeling fruit in a corner. Betty dares to meet his eyes for a millisecond, turns an alarming shade of pink and looks away so quickly it makes his head spin. Mary and Fred on the other hand greet him perfectly normally and he can’t help wondering at the two question that are on loop in his head, do they know what we did last night, don’t they? do they? don’t they?

Breakfast is pretty much a repeat of the same. He’s constantly trying to micro analyse everyone’s reactions, especially in relation to when he has to interact with Betty for even the slightest most mundane of tasks. When she passes him the bowl of fruit he can’t help noticing the slight tremor in her grip and how, where their skins touch for the slightest second he feels a jolt of electric current. He then immediately looks up to find her flushing again and he can feel the heat creeping up his neck too. It’s ridiculous, the show they’re putting up. They might as well make a formal announcement of the consummation of their physical relationship.

Mary and Fred bless them, are either completely aware of this spectacle and are giving them space out of respect or are so oblivious to the tense energy in the room that they remain unbothered. When Fred gets up mouthing “ Going outside” and kissing Mary as he leaves, Jughead jumps at the chance to follow him.

“ What’s gotten into you?” Mary signs shaking her head and he just shrugs on his way out. If Betty is watching him he doesn’t dare to look around and check. 

Outside it feels easier to breathe. He’s going to have to get better at his poker face if he wants to survive being in her vicinity after last night’s events. And so will she. It’s not like he wants to hide his feelings for her. He’s spent too fucking long trying to repress and deny them, he’ll be damned if he has to do it again now that he knows she reciprocates them. But he wants to do it delicately. Betty is so much more than a tumble in the sheets. He treasures her. And he wants her to be aware of it.

All day his mind keeps wandering to her, conjuring up images of her naked body writhing under him, opening to him, surrounding him and it takes all of his focus and will power not to go looking for her again. Both Mary and Fred seem to have caught on to his odd behaviour because he finds them throwing strange looks at him that are half curious and half amused. 

“I’m off to make dinner.” Mary signs when it’s beginning to get dusky. Fred has already left to clean up and rest a little before dinner. Jughead nods.

“ Let me put these back and I’ll help you” he signs pointing to the various tools. She leaves and he quietly collects all the tools and makes his way to the open barn door.

He stops dead in his tracks when he finds Betty is inside and his heart rate picks up instantaneously, just at the sight of her. He’d spotted her several times while working, doing laundry and then later in the tomato garden they had planted away from the other crops. Only once their eyes had met and the look had been so heated and full of intense desire it took everything in him not march up to her and devour her there and then.

Now as he watches her bent over the crates where they store the fresh produce he can’t help himself as he walks up to her stealthily and suddenly clamps his hand on her mouth while spinning her around to press her front to his own. The gasp that leaves her mouth is muffled but her eyes lose the terror in them when she realizes it’s him, taking on a sleepier, hazier quality immediately.

God he’s wanted her to look at him like that for so long.

He pushes her against the barn wall and her lips part in shock, eyes widening before he swoops in. His lips are hungry and she seems stunned for a few seconds before she’s returning his wet open mouthed kisses with her own. God she is so sweet, her flavour is so unique to her, her mouth so warm so soft so completely malleable under his tongue. He wants her so badly but they are out in the open and although he thinks she would let him, he doesn’t want this quick fuck in the barn. He wants to be able to pleasure her in leisure and take his time with her.

She is panting soundlessly, eyes blown wide and the flush on her skin is so delectable it has his heart hammering painfully. He wants to just suck on her skin, inhale in the sweet aroma that she seems to exude like a fucking flower. Like a fucking flower, he thinks, rose petal lips and rosy cheeks, inside out pink and blooming and opening to his touch. How does she expect him to not want her like this all the time.

His fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they span her length, nip her waist and slip under the hem of her simple dress that does nothing to prevent their wandering. It’s these damn dresses. There are no buttons to open, no zips to unzip, no fabric that needs to be pushed away...they are as open and inviting to his hands as the sweet warmth he finds when he pushes away her panties. He pulls back from her to look at her, notices the way her eyes roll back, how her mouth slackens when he rubs against her wet slickness just like that, and when his fingers begin their slow rhythmic movements in and out of her, how he knows there is a sound at the back of her throat that he needs to swallow before it can reach her lips. He feels her quivering around him, then tightening, her head falling back and hitting the wall and she comes with his tongue in her mouth making love to her in tandem with his fingers. 

It takes her a few minutes to come down from her high, let her breathing normalize and the flush on her cheeks to recede somewhat. She pushes him away playfully and he grins at her. 

“Stop distracting me!!” she signs to him.

“You stop distracting me!!” he signs back and her mouth is so lovely, pouting at him that he can’t help kissing her again. But he lets her go eventually, sobering to the thought of having Fred or Mary walk in on them. He stands back and watches as she collects the fruit basket lying at their feet some of the berries thrown askew. 

“ You better go inside first,” she signs face flushing again and though he wants to tease her he nods. He’s about to walk away when she suddenly holds up her hand.

“We should tell Mary and Fred soon...” she signs, then less surely,” I mean we will have to eventually. It would be odd not to.” 

He wants to tell her that at this point he would willingly tell not only Mary and Fred but most anyone who would listen but he simply signs,” I’ll tell them.”

“Now?” she signs looking surprised.

“Why not?” he signs back. When she responds with a small shrug he just winks and walks out. 

 

Once inside the farmhouse, he finds most of his bravado disappearing when faced with the Andrews sitting at the table quietly peeling fruit in complete harmony. He walks up to them and takes a seat, feeling suddenly like the lanky awkward teenager who had been such a regular guest at their dinner table. 

“ What’s for dinner?” he signs 

“ What will you have?” Mary signs back and there’s a small smile forming on her lips.

Jughead realizes he might as well cut the crap. It’s Mary after all.

“So...Betty and I” he begins but Mary holds up a finger shutting him up.

“We know dear,” she signs and there is a huge grin on her face.” We’re really happy for you both.”

Jughead turns an acute shade of red and Fred laughs quietly at him patting him on the back. There’s really not much else to say he figures. Betty chooses this precise moment to make an appearance and judging from how flushed her face is he guesses she saw most of their interaction from the doorway.

At the dinner table Mary serves them fruit salad and baked fish and just when he’s beginning to think they’ve been let off the hook quite easily, proposes a silent toast that has them both flushing in mortified embarrassment again as she dissolves into a fit of silent giggles. 

That night when Betty comes down the basement stairs, wearing her lacy dress and a gorgeous smile, he meets her half way. His lips find hers in an open mouthed kiss full of want as he picks her up and takes her to bed. And when he presses her into his mattress he thinks this is where I want you always my darling.

******

Fred gets better.

It’s a slow recovery because of the gap in medication but it’s steady. Everyday the signs of fatigue seem less pronounced on his face and it makes Jughead breathe easier. Mary nervously gauges Fred’s routine, his sleeping and working hours, his food consumption and from the slowly loosening muscles in her back, he can tell she is also breathing easier.

Jughead’s own routine is nearly back to normal. Now that the threat of Fred’s deteriorating health is behind them he is back to focusing in the fields and helping around at the farm. They’ve had a great first yield and with the arrival of May there is good rainfall, leaving the soil even richer for the new planting. His days are busy and productive. 

And his nights are full Betty who is fast becoming the centre of his universe.

If someone was to tell Jughead he would be living his best life two years from the apocalypse because he not only survived it and ended up with the two people he had admired and loved all his life but also because he would be gifted the companionship of an extraordinary woman he would have punched them in the face and then probably gotten beaten up in return too. 

The funny thing is they wouldn’t be wrong. 

He sometimes wonders if he should feel guilty, for feeling this happiness he can’t seem to control. They have lost so much, all of them and this world is still such a hostile strange place to exist with it’s deceptive lull of quiet. But he can’t help it. The days pass by and the crops are good and there is a family who wants him and a woman who is his home.

They’ve been growing squash and green beans along side the corn and it’s strange how gratifying it is, every time he plants something into the soil and it comes to life. It’s something he can’t even imagine himself capable of doing in his life before. The whole farmer Jones act is so at odds with who he was it would be hilarious if the reality of it wasn’t so tragic.

He works quietly next to Mary as they make one inch high hills and rows to plant the squash seeds. It’s slow work and the sun offers no sympathy. He’s drenched in sweat so he pulls off his shirt and then eventually his vest. Mary raises an eyebrow at him and he just grins back. 

When they’re done with prepping the soil he’s so dirty Mary can’t help laughing quietly at him.

“You’re so filthy I feel like pulling your ears,” she signs to him,” I was working right next to you and I don’t look like I got dragged in the mud.”

“You’re Mary,” he signs back,” You’re not supposed to be anything but put together”

“Go clean up smartass” she signs back and throws his dirty shirt at him.

When jughead comes inside wiping himself with the soiled vest, Betty is standing by the kitchen window drying some of the wooden spoons and bowls they often use. She barely acknowledges him, even when he comes to stand next to her for a glass of water, her eyes focused intently on the utensil she’s drying. She seems flustered and there is a blush creeping up her neck and although its hot inside too it’s not that hot.

It hits him suddenly. The kitchen window opens in direct view of the field he’d been working in before and where he can now see Mary resting while Fred is dozing in the shade of the corn. He slowly reaches out and grips her chin, turning her face up so that she has no choice but to look at him. He can’t help noticing how clean her skin is how utterly lovely next to the dirty olive tones of his own hands, how he leaves a small smudge of dirt on her chin when he lets her go, how her eyes are blown wide and although she’s trying to hide it her breathing is slightly strained.

“ Were you watching me?” He signs and there is a small smug smile on his face.

Betty frowns at him but the guilty look in her eyes gives her away. When the smirk grows across his face she sticks out her tongue at him. It’s supposed to be playful, the gesture, but it has the complete opposite effect. Before he can second guess himself he turns her back so that she’s looking out of the window again and comes to stand behind her, his bare chest flush against her back. He pushes her hair to one side of her neck, dropping a soft kiss at her nape. Then he slowly slides his hands along her bare arms, fingers barely skimming her skin. She is so still, back tense and taut, like a wound bowstring. When he drops to his knees behind her, the movement of her fingers is jerky, like a puppet’s, as they reach out to hold onto the smooth marble ledge of the counter, knuckles white. He pushes his hands up her dress and pulls her panties down. Her breath comes out in a short gasp that she stifles with her hand. There is a wet spot in the centre of the lace that he finds completely enchanting.

He kisses the soft skin in the hollow of her knee and thinks, I’m in love with you.

******

“What do you miss most...about before?” he asks, as they’re cleaning up the last of the fish they’ve caught.

“Music,” she replies without having to think about it,” It just broke my heart not to have music anymore. It used to be my happy place.”

She smiles a little sadly at him and he wants to kiss away that sadness.

“What about you?”

He scratches his chin, taking the time to mull over his answer,” I used to think it was fast food,” he winks at her when she lets out a bubbly laugh but continues,” but at the end of the day it’s just sustenance you know...it’s not something I miss too much on a full stomach...I guess I miss taking photos. It was something I was discovering a passion for...I miss never getting to explore that.”

She’s looking at him, a little dreamily and he flicks her nose when he says,” I would have loved to photograph you. You have such perfect bone structure. I could get some great shots.”

She washes her hands in the water and gets up from her spot. Then taking the knife from his hand she puts it down and straddles his lap where he’s sitting. “ I’d have liked that” she whispers in his ear, and her voice has a sleepy seductive quality to it that travels straight to his dick.” I could model for you, maybe get some nude shots too if you played your cards right...” 

He’s already hard as he grips her thighs and lifts her up. 

“ Your hands are filthy!!” she squeals wriggling against him as he steps out of the water and in one motion lays her down in the grass, coming to lie between her legs.

“ Serve you right for starting things you didn’t mean to finish in the first place,” he grins at her and before she can protest he flicks open the button on her jeans and pulls them down, cupping her over her panties as she lets out a breathy moan and her eyes roll back. She’s soaked through the simple cotton. He braces himself with one arm on the side of her face and dips down, kissing her and then, because she’s so damn delicious biting her lower lip as he continues to rub her with his other hand.

“Baby I want you so bad...”, he groans, kissing the underside of her jaw as her heels dig into his back,” so much, all the damn time”

“ I know babe...” she sighs softly and pulls his mouth back to kiss him,” me too, all the time”

He tries to sit up disentangling himself from her arms but she’s not letting go,” just let me..” he pants trying to pull off her jeans all the way down as she reaches for his belt buckle.

“ Now,” she chants trying to rub herself against him” now, now ,now please!!”

Jughead takes out a condom from his jeans and then pushes them down along with his boxers.

He’s inside her the next minute pushing her panties away and Betty lets out a gasp, mewling in pleasure as he sets up a fast pace.

“Fuck...baby...you’re so good to me...you’re so fuckinh....” he groans into her ear and her eyes are so dark he can hardly see the green in them. He matches his thrusts with the canting motion of her hips and the pleasure is so intense he feels he might just pass out.

“Say my name baby..” he whispers in her ear hotly, licking a stripe along the shell of it and her eyes roll back, and he can tell from how tense her abdomen is and in the way her thighs clench around his torso that she is very near.

She is barely coherent but when he pushes a hand between their joined bodies and rubs against her in harsh rough strokes she moans a very soft” oh jugh..jug” and then she’s coming around him and the wet tightening of her muscles has him thrusting in short stuttered strokes until he’s spilling into her as well. He collapses into her, feeling completely spent but also completely at peace and judging from the content smile on her face, so is she. 

They take a shower together and he washes her hair with so much tenderness it makes her look at him with soft questioning eyes. 

Later after they’ve dressed and he’s packing up the back packs, she comes up behind him and circles her arms, holding him in an embrace that feels intimate in a way it has never felt before. Then very quietly she says” Jug, I don’t know if this is the right time to say this but it’s been at the tip of my tongue for some time now,” she takes a deep breath and his heart rate is accelerating suddenly because he has a feeling where this is going.

“ You don’t have to say it back or...fuck don’t say anything at all...but I love you...so much Jughead...I’m in love with you...I have been for some time now and maybe you’ll think it’s too earl..”

She’s rambling and he has to shut her up with a sudden rough kiss” Are you kidding me,” he whispers into her hair crushing her in a fierce hug,“ I love you. I love you so fucking much..” it feels like his heart is seizing up. He wants her to know this so badly but the words are all jumbled up in his mouth and his tongue feels swollen to twice its size. It’s his greatest talent, spinning words around and he should be able to do a better job at letting this woman know what she means to him. That here in this fucked up world where he has learned to live with his fear and without his voice, she has made him belong to her in way that he has never really wanted to belong to anyone. 

“I meant to tell you baby.. before” he tells her, and there is something like regret at the base of his throat as he he combs her hair back and tucks it behind her ears. She stands with her arms thrown around his neck.” I’ve had it on the tip of my tongue for a long time too...maybe longer than you have. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before,”

“Hey,” she says softly,” Don’t apologize for that. You said it back. That’s all that matters to me.” 

He pulls her even tighter into himself. 

“ I’m going to hold you to it,” he says and there is a hint of teasing there,” Even when you realize how fucking out of my league you are.” She laughs at that and there is nothing for him to do but kiss her again.

They walk hand in hand on the way back, steps light and frisky in a manner that the woods have never afforded before. He keeps stopping her to kiss her and she always complies. It’s reckless and idiotic, this behaviour and she’s spoiling him by letting her guard down too. It’s beginning to get a little dark but he can’t find it in him to worry, not with her fingers entwined with his and her face soft and pretty with the glow of their love.

 

His heart is so full of a feeling that he thinks must be pure unadulterated joy. To have something he has so desperately craved and with a woman he can not even begin to account the extent of love he has for. His heart is so full that it dulls his brain and he doesn’t even register that the emergency lights they have set up around the house as a warning signal are turned on and glowing red. It’s Betty’s involuntary gasp that has him snapping out of his reverie. He blinks at the glowing red for what feels like a really long time. There is a persistently panicked voice growing louder in his head that sounds very much like his own. And then as if he’s just been jerked awake, he’s running like a man possessed towards the farm house, heart thundering and it’s beat so loud in his head he’s surprised the creatures aren’t already in hot pursuit behind him. He’s aware that he is being loud enough to be heard but there is a wind in the corn and by some miracle nothing stops him. Nothing stops him until he stops dead in his tracks when he spots Mary sitting on the steps of the porch with her head in her hands.

She looks up and her face is tear stained. Somewhere in the periphery of his visual field he can see Betty, breathless and panting from her run, come to a stop. He takes the last few steps towards Mary. Mary whose face is tear stained and eyes are blood shot.

“It’s Fred” she signs and her fingers are trembling, “ He’s had a stroke...”

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...so..cliffhanger!! Apologies. Also I hope the smut was tasteful and didn't bore because that shit is hard to write. I hope this chapter was what you were hoping for...i would love to have your comments!! Love you all!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is everyone!! The final chapter! Before you dive in be prepared for some heartbreak and mourning. The first line will give it away so there really is no other warning i can give. I hope you will still give the rest of this story a chance.

Fred dies on the third day of his stroke

It takes them two days to dig a grave. It’s too risky to even consider using a shovel so they use the smaller gardening tools they have. It’s hard work and it keeps them occupied and Jughead is so thankful for this mindless pursuit because otherwise he knows he’s going to lose his mind. The exercise leaves him feeling hollow and exhausted and he passes out each night wrapped in Betty’s warm embrace. 

Mary has taken to wearing Fred’s face mask in order to muffle the sound of her sobs because she can’t stop herself. All of her self control and resistance seems to have crumbled. As for Jughead, the grief he feels is so visceral it’s like the hunger pangs that continuously plagued him in his teens. Always there: in the deepest pit of his stomach, just behind his heart and somewhere in front of his windpipe. It is such an acute pain it leaves him incapable of crying.

They bury him on the morning of the third day since his passing. The body ( Jughead hates to think of it like that but he can’t bring himself to think of it as Fred either) is still in good condition given that it’s the middle of summer and it’s been three days. When he lowers him to the grave with Betty’s help, Mary pulls out two packets of Marlboros and Fred’s worn out lighter from her pocket and puts them inside the grave as well. Jughead just stares at her with his mouth open.

“ What?” she signs to him, eyes bloodshot. “ You think I kissed the man my whole life and couldn’t tell he smoked?”

Later, when they’ve buried him and the soil is covered with as many wild flowers as Betty can find, Mary requests they go to the river.

“I want to grieve him with words.” She signs to him and her hands are unsteady.

Jughead nods and signs for her to wait. Inside he picks up his backpack and the empty water cans, but then freezes suddenly. There is a film of wetness over his eyes and he hates that he had this thought as he puts the cans down. The passing of one Fred Andrews deserves enough break in routine to warrant a trip for his sake alone. This a time for grieving and grieving only.

He turns around to find Betty standing by the door.

“ I can stay back,” She signs, a little hesitant,” I don’t want to intrude.”

He shakes his head. Betty had been Fred’s family as much as him. And he had loved her dearly, right from the start but even more since she had made the trip for him.. Mary will want her there he knows.

They make a quiet trio as they walk in the woods. It’s strange he thinks, how many times he’d walked these paths with Fred and never once contemplated the possibility he would no longer accompany him at some point. His heart gets heavier with each step they take and by the time they reach the river he can hardly stand the throbbing pain he feels in his chest. 

When they get there, Mary makes her way to the waterfall and sits down on one of the stones dipping her feet in the water and finally taking off the face mask she hasn’t been able to remove in the last three days. Betty sits a little back, nose and ears red, face flushed from her silent crying.

Mary motions for him to sit by her, and when he does she takes his hand and strokes it. When she finally speaks her voice is surprisingly clear, as if she hasn’t spent the better part of the last seventy two hours crying.

“ You remember the day I left him?” she says and he nods, as Betty looks up in surprise. 

Jughead had been an unwitting witness to Fred’s heartbreak. That summer, he had watched his own family implode with a crash and a bang and had mostly escaped to Archie’s place to avoid his father’s shameful, drunken attempts at grieving. The implosion at the Andrews house had been a quieter affair. And all the more of a surprise.

“ I left him you know,” She turns around and addresses Betty, who seems to shrink into herself, looking slightly embarrassed. Mary continues completely unruffled by her discomfort,” Archie was thirteen and we were so settled in our lives. It was pretty perfect. And Fred was so wonderful. But I wanted so much more than that white picket fence. And I thought I’ve done enough and I need to focus on myself now and I need to focus on my career. It was all me, me, me back then. And out of nowhere I started feeling so resentful...” she shakes her head and Jughead can see how her eyes are starting to tear up again. Betty is listening to her now with rapt attention.

“ And I was such a bitch to that man...” Mary’s voice crumbles a little and Jughead pulls her close.

“ It wasn’t like that.” He murmurs softly but Mary shakes her head.

“ It was,” she says,” you don’t know the half of it. You were just kids and we didn’t want Archie to get upset. I made him feel like it was his fault. Like he was holding me back. And he tried to make it work. He tried so hard.”

She sighs as her tears flow silently for sometime, toes still dipped in the water and he thinks this a fitting service for Fred. Here in the lonely deep with the breeze in the reeds and the water in it’s slow motion. Here where there are so many soft memories of a soft man.

“I miss him so much Jug. But I’m so thankful I got to be with him again. That he let me back in his life and we got this time together. There was so much love we could have lost but he didn’t give up on me.” Mary says, sadly, her voice melodious in it’s quiet yearning, “I’m glad it was like this. I’m glad it was quiet and peaceful. I’m glad he was in bed with his loved ones and there was no pain and no violence and no fear...” she breaks down and now she’s crying in earnest as Jughead holds her tightly and silent tears finally make a route down his face. 

They sit there for what feels like hours, as Mary pours her heart out. There are so many words she has to say, all of them true. It’s a quiet kind of ache he feels now. Listening to Mary is strangely cathartic and when they finally get up to return, as the sun is getting lower, he finds it a little easier to breathe. 

Mary excuses herself to go upstairs as soon as they get back and when Betty asks him if he wants something to eat he shakes his head and simply holds his hands out to her. She looks surprised but doesn’t say anything. He leads her downstairs where he proceeds to undress her and then makes her come again and again, first with his mouth and fingers and then when he’s inside her with his forceful thrusts against her. And later when they are both boneless and spent, he lays his head against her heart and cries into her skin till he falls into a restless sleep.

******

Time is relative.

Jughead has never understood this more than he does now. His days are slow, with an almost half asleep lazy quality to them. He finds himself often lost in thought while out in the fields. He thinks mostly of the quiet man with whom he spent so much time in this soil. The man who taught him more about growing and nurturing and loving than his own father. The man who he now misses with a bone deep tenderness more than he misses his own father. He wonders if he should be guilty but ultimately rules the verdict in his own favour. Flesh begets flesh, he knows, but love begets love. 

The intimacy he shares with Betty on the other hand seems to have taken on a sharper, swifter edge. His lovemaking is urgent, faster, harder...like he can’t get enough of her, can’t reach deep enough within her, can’t hold her dearly enough safe within his embrace, away from everything that is unfair and ugly and grievous.

She worries so much for him and Mary. He can see it in the way she tries to be there always, ready to pick a sword and march into battle. Sometimes, because she’s Betty and she can’t help it, she tries too much. 

Time is relative. But time is also the best healer. 

Slowly as the days pass and turn into weeks, he learns to make peace with Fred’s loss. Mary, ever graceful in everything she does, makes her peace too. And slowly they start to smile without needing to feel guilty. He finds himself once again enjoying his work and routine around the farm. They make compromises and adjustments, because the loss of Fred on a more practical level also means one less pair of hands, and Fred in his quiet unassuming way had always taken on so much.

They clean out Fred’s wardrobe and sort things into groups. Those that need to be discarded and those that can be reused. Mary sorts through his belongings with a quiet, ruthless efficiency that belies the utter grief that resurfaces when they reach the stack of medicine. She breaks down as Jughead crouches next to her, hugging her as she cries soundlessly. She eventually calms down and shakes her head.

“ I miss him so much Jug.” She signs.

“ I know,” he signs back and she smiles at him sadly but gratefully.

He ends up getting most of the clothes because Fred had remained a slim man all his life and Jughead is nearly the same height he was. Mary also gives him Fred’s wallet which is in much better shape than his own. He takes it for sentimental value alone. They pack up the medicine and put it away in storage. Mary keeps his journals and Fred’s Aviator sunglasses.

“ He was always so handsome in these,” she signs smiling. 

They’re about to leave the room when Mary motions for him to stop.

“ There’s one more thing,” she signs and makes her way towards her own side of the closet instead of Fred’s. 

Mary holds out a little box that rattles when he takes it. He opens it curiously. Inside are two gold rings. He has spent enough time with the Andrews to know these are their marriage rings. The simple gold band is the same Fred wore for the longest time, even after Mary had gone, until one day he didn’t. It’s the one that came back the day she did. 

“ Mary..” he mouths at her frowning but his heartbeat quickens even as he closes the box.

“ This is for you when you need it,” she signs and when he tries to return it to her she shakes her head.

“ I can’t take these.” He signs but she lays a hand on his to stop him.

“ I want you to take them. And so did Fred.” He looks at her and she nods, “ We talked about it.” She signs and there’s a small smile on her face. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Or it can mean anything you want. With him gone it’s just a piece of fancy metal to me.” She signs and Jughead doesn’t know how to respond.

“ Mary...I don’t...I don’t need a ring to tell Betty what she means to me. She’s everything.” He signs eventually.

Mary looks thoughtful.

“ I don’t know Jug. I think if I had something left to pass on it would be this. I want you to take them. I want you to keep them. I would love for you to use them one day with Betty but if not then at least keep them as a reminder of what you have with her.” She signs and before he can argue further she walks out of the room. 

Jughead comes down and sneaks the box into his back pack to be dealt with later. He feels slightly disgruntled. He’s never been good at dealing with his emotions head on and it’s so unlike Mary to push him like this. He keeps thinking about the rings. It’s a silly thing. He’s never really believed in marriage as an institution. His parents had set a pretty poor example. His relationship with Betty is so much more. It isn’t subject to conservative milestones. Or is it?

When Betty comes inside in the afternoon, slightly sweaty from working in the vegetable patch and looking good enough to eat, he wonders if it’s something she would want. They haven’t really talked about anything yet. The follow up to their I love yous had been so rudely interrupted by the practicality of life, or in their case death. They’ve exchanged the sentiment again of course, multiples of times since the first time and just as reverently, but they haven’t talked about what comes next. It feels...redundant somehow. He belongs to her already, as completely as a person can belong to another. 

He keeps throwing furtive glances her way as she busies herself in the kitchen. Mary is in the barn with her log book and when he comes to stand beside her she smiles mischievously at him.

“ Don’t get any ideas,” she signs but he ignores her and pulls her in for a tender kiss that she all but falls into. They stand there kissing for a while and just as he’s beginning to get worked up she pulls back.

“ Behave,” she mouths at him raising an eyebrow in warning and none too soon because Mary comes inside shortly afterwards to help begin preparation for dinner.

******

The question keeps re-emerging to the forefront of Jughead’s mind unbidden over the next few days. He keeps wondering if he should talk it over with Betty. Everything about their reality is unlike anything anyone has probably ever experienced. Does it make sense to pursue this with her he wonders. Sometimes it starts feeling like a good idea. 

Mary knows him so well, he thinks shaking his head as he makes his way towards their abandoned town with Betty leading. They have started stocking up for the arrival of fall and winter and plan a trip every week so that they can carry home enough stock to store for the months they will be locked in.

He’s still lost in thought when Betty’s abrupt stop halts him in his tracks as he looks up. Betty’s entire body is tense with fear and he follows her line of vision to find the most bizarre sight he has ever seen, even as his heartbeat goes into overdrive.

There is one of the creature lying on the ground, heaving silently a few feet away, it’s grotesquely shaped arms and legs thrust out at odd angles, so that it appears even more macabre. It’s so silent that had it not been clear daylight Jughead would have mistaken it for dead. The heaving of it’s trunk however leaves no doubt that it is still very much alive.

Before they can so much as think of their next plan of action however, the creature heaves one last time and then shudders before it goes completely still. They stand there with bated breath but nothing else happens.

Betty turns to him slowly and there is a mixture of fear and elation on her face as she signs,” let’s get out of here.”

Jughead nods in agreement and they make it back to the farmhouse, their trip all but forgotten, wary of any other unusual happening but nothing else comes up.

Mary is doing laundry and looks up in surprise at their approach clearly not expecting them to be back so soon.

“ What happened?” She signs springing to her feet,” What’s wrong?”

“ I think we just witnessed the death of one of those monsters,” Betty signs back and proceeds to recount their tale and Mary finally responds with a crudely gestured,” serve that bastard right!!”

The incidence takes precedence over all other thoughts for the next few days. Jughead keeps remembering their encounter with the creatures before at the pharmacy. When he had been struck by how clumsily they had moved as apposed to their previous focused movements. And now this. He wonders if these things are finally developing some kind of weakness in this environment. Is mother nature winning over this land once more? It’s a hopeful thought. But it’s dangerous also. They can’t believe in something and build up hope on the basis of one incidence alone. 

He shares as much with Betty when they go to the river for replenishing their water and fish supply as usual. 

“ I don’t know Jug,” She replies thoughtfully as she gathers up their tools once they’re done.” It sure as hell felt like a victory to me. And I’m going to enjoy that feeling while it lasts.”

He nods slowly and then watches her as she makes her way towards the waterfall. When she looks back at him in invitation his mind blanks out and all he can think of is her.

They kiss softly, and as always the kisses grow headier as he spins her slowly to face away from him, tracing a hand slowly down her curves till he’s cupping her over the fabric of her dress. He walks her slowly towards the wet hard wall of the rock near the waterfall and raises her arms to rest her hands on it. She’s bent a little in front of him and her breathing is ragged as he pulls her panties down and lets them drop to the floor. He watches her step out of them as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans and then comes to stand between her legs, already spread apart as she waits for him. He rubs her till she’s wet and trembling and then enters her from behind in one smooth stroke. It’s intensely erotic, this position and has him setting up a fast slightly rough pace, chasing his pleasure and hers. She keens and whimpers as she tightens around him with his name on her lips and he follows her soon after in his own release with a string of curses falling from his mouth.

Afterwards when they lie quietly on the wet smooth stone floor, he traces the drops of water that are glistening on the skin of her spine as she faces away from him. The shape of her is so lovely, the arch of her back so enticing. He could just lie here with her and write sonnets on the fluidity of her anatomy. 

“ I never thought I could have this,” she says abruptly, breaking the melodious monotony of water dripping from the waterfall.

“ Have what?” Jughead asks lazily. He feels so content in this moment. It’s dangerous this feeling, he keeps reminding himself, it makes them vulnerable. But in this moment with her he couldn’t care less.

“ You know this...whatever this is between us...I never thought I could have it with anyone.”

“ And what is this between us?” She can probably hear the smile in his voice because when she turns around there is one mirroring his own.

“ I don’t know...but its good right? Whatever this is...I love you, you love me...it’s good.” She’s looking at him with those eyes of hers again and he can’t help kissing the apprehension off her face.

“ Are you fucking kidding me,?” he laughs out and scoops her up so that she’s pressed against him skin to skin.” You’re the best damn relationship of my entire life.”

She lets out a sound that is half exasperated and half stunned, then asks “ Really?”

“ No.” He deadpans and then bursts out laughing when she pinches him and tickles him until he’s breathless and panting and she’s straddling him. And though it’s one hell of a view he misses her skin on his too much so he pulls her back to him. He strokes her hip and traces the line of the lithe muscle to her thigh, currently draped across his.

“ You’re a jerk” She says still smiling.

“ Come on,” he replies and he’s suddenly serious,” you know I mean it. I can prove it to you if you want.”

She frowns at him, “ What are you saying?”

“ I’m saying if you want labels, I can give you labels.”

“ Oooo right,” Betty says in a mocking, breathy voice and her eyes are shiny and mirthful.,” so does that mean I’m your girlfriend?”

“ Sure,” he says and then heart pounding suddenly,” but I meant more along the lines of wife.”

She scoffs and pinches him again,” You’re a dumbass.”

He sits up as she follows his movement a little surprised, and this is not the way he meant for it to happen but he can’t think of any other moment more perfect than now. Her very real insecurity about where they stand is ridiculous and if he can reassure her with a stupid ring he’s going to do it right fucking now. The rings are still in his back pack and he reaches over to take out the box. Betty has gone very still, as she looks at him and when he shows her the box and then makes a show of getting on his knees awkwardly with a grin on his face, she sits up with a panicked expression on her face.

“ What the fuck are you..” she begins but he cuts her off.

“ Betty Cooper will you marry me?”

Her mouth falls open as her hands fly to cover it and she just stares at him for so long that he begins to fidget nervously.

“ Look, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this. It...it just made sense to me suddenly. You can think about it and if you don’t want to that’s fine...I love you with or without it.” 

She’s still silent staring at him like he’s lost his fucking mind.

“Betty,” he pleads,” Baby you’re killing me here. Just forget I said anything ok, just...”

“ No!!” she says finally and his face falls but she’s talking again rapidly,” No I mean...I...are you serious? This isn’t an elaborate prank? Because I’ll strangle you!!”

“ Why would I joke about this?” he asks almost offended and she lets out a shriek and throws herself at him arms flailing wildly with such force that he falls back on his ass with her half on top of him. 

Suddenly there’s no room to breathe because he’s being smothered by kisses.

“ Yes! Yes! Yes! A million times yes!!” she cries and her face is wet and splotchy but she’s laughing and she’s never looked more beautiful to him than she does now. 

“ I love you,” he tells her quietly and she simply buries her face in his neck as he holds her close to his heart.

******

When they get back, Betty runs straight to Mary and excitedly tells her about the proposal. 

“Jughead told me about the rings,” she signs with eyes shining,” I can’t thank you enough.”

Mary simply replies with a beaming smile as she hugs Betty.

When Betty runs upstairs to find some chocolates( she still hasn’t told Jughead where she hides her secret stash because apparently,” you’ll just finish them in one go!!”), to celebrate the occasion, Mary looks slyly at Jughead and signs,” That didn’t take you too long did it?”

There’s a huge grin on his face as he rubs his neck and shrugs.

“ You did good.” She signs and that’s that. 

They pick a day in mid July. There really is no point in delaying it, now that he knows how much they both want it. Mary packs a picnic while Jughead and Betty get ready. He puts on a pair of black slacks he’s had forever but never worn before. None of his t-shirts look right and so he puts on one of the white shirts Mary had given him from Fred’s clothes. Mary loops a small flower through his buttonhole and when she signs how good he looks he can’t help smiling bashfully. 

He waits for Betty downstairs while Mary helps her with her hair and when she finally comes down in a simple white cotton dress that reaches mid thigh and flowers looped delicately into her hair, he feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen and when Mary excuses herself to go upstairs so that she can also change, he drops a quick kiss on her lips.

“ Stop!” she mouths giggling silently and pushes him away. Mary returns shortly, dressed in a lovely pastel dress and twirls around them holding out the hem.” Thank you for giving me the occasion to finally wear this” she signs and Jughead can’t help laughing at her silliness.

They walk to the river in high spirits, exchanging soft looks and lingering touches as Mary leads in front. Once they get there Jughead takes out the rings and gives them to Mary. They stand close to the waterfall and exchange their vows, spoken in reverent muted voices. Mary hands them the rings and they are a perfect fit on each of their fingers. Then Jughead dips her and when she laughs kisses her lips. And just like that they are married.

“ I have something for both of you.” Mary says later and takes out two little boxes wrapped in old newspaper.

“ Mary,” Jughead sighs exasperated,” You didn’t have to.”

“ Oh hush,” she chides and hands him his box.

Inside is Fred’s old watch. The one he had always worn on special occasions. It is such a beautiful gift that Jughead feels unable to articulate his gratitude and simply crushes Mary in a hug. She laughs and kisses his cheek and then it’s Betty’s turn.

Her box opens to reveal a pair of small worn gold emerald studs and a bottle of Chanel’s no. 5 that appears to be slightly used.

“ I’m sorry they’re second hand,” Mary says when Betty hugs her crying happy tears,” But I thought they would make a nice gift.”

“ It’s the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received,” she says wiping her face.” It’s not fair of you to distribute your dearest possessions between us like this.” But Mary shakes her head.

“ I don’t have much use for that perfume anymore,” she teases,” you on the other hand...” she leaves it at that since Betty turns an acute shade of pink and Jughead has a coughing fit. 

They eat their picnic lunch sitting cross legged by the water. It’s simple and rustic and so beautiful, this moment. When it’s late in the afternoon, Mary lies down and naps in the grass while Betty sits between his legs with her back to his chest and sighs happily.

“ Thank you,” she whispers softly turning her face so that she can graze her lips to the underside of his jaw,” Thank you for everything.”

He pulls her even closer, against his heart and whispers, “ Don’t thank me. It’s all you baby. I’m going to spend the rest of my life thanking you for turning up at my door.”

That night he comes down to find the muted glow of candles and fresh flower petals scattered on his bed. Betty sits waiting for him with stars in her eyes and a tube of red lipstick. She puts on the lipstick and her lips are gorgeous. Then slowly so he doesn’t miss a move she gets down on her knees in front of him reaching for his buckle. It’s a powerful visual. And it’s one he’s going to remember till the day he dies. 

*******

Marriage suits him. 

His days are a blur of happiness with Betty and time seems to move quickly once again. 

The last of the corn crop is ready to be harvested and the yield has been good. They will have enough stored for the winter when it becomes hard to grow things. Their trips to the town have resulted in enough sacks of rice, flour and sugar stored in the barn too. 

They’re good he tells himself. They’re safe and everything is good. 

They go for another one of their fishing trips to the river and he notices how Betty gets breathless after the walk. He’s surprised because she never tires of walking. 

Once the fish is sorted Jughead makes his way to the shower point and although Betty follows him she refuses to join him stating it’s too cold.

“ You’re going to miss these showers when we’re stuck to wet mopping ourselves in the winter,” he tells her as he stands under the waterfall while she watches him lazily, enjoying the view.

“ I’ll miss them but nothing you’re saying is going to convince me now. The water’s too cold already.”

“ Chicken,” he calls out and she flips him the bird.

“ Ok,” he says making a show of shaking his head,” You may not want to shower but I would very much like to fuck my wife,” his voice is low as he walks towards her purposefully and she has already started backing away as he crashes into her. She lets out a startled laugh and tries to push him away shouting at him to ‘fuck off’ but he picks her up kissing her roughly, biting her lips making her moan half in pleasure and half in pain. God there is no end to the ways he wants this woman. 

She helps him undress her, her resolve melting under his touch, fingers fumbling and missing buttons. Her bra hook gets stuck in her hair and he nearly trips over while getting rid of his jeans and Betty can’t stop giggling. It’s ridiculous and joyful and makes him breathless with how happy he feels.

They come together again and he pulls her under the water suddenly, surprising her as she shrieks out at how cold it is.

“ Jerk!!” she yells but he laughs and shuts her up with a kiss so full of desire she can’t help but hum contentedly.

They make out under the water while Jughead lathers her with soap. 

Her breasts look bigger somehow, swollen..more luscious if that’s even possible. He’s so hard and he rubs himself against her wet soap slicked body. There’s a delicate vein running down from her collar bone to her right nipple that surprisingly he’s never noticed before. It looks a tempting enough route to follow. He runs his tongue from her neck to the dip in her throat while he cups her. Then very carefully maps it along the vein to her pebbled nipple. She has always enjoyed the attention he pays to her breasts but when he dips to take it in his mouth and suckles on it she lets out a sharp gasp that has him drawing back surprised.

“ Sorry,” she says a little breathlessly since his fingers are hard at work on her clit. ”I just...oh fuck just like that...oh..”

He continues to work her higher and her heaving chest has him lunging for her breast again but this time as soon as he sucks on her she jerks back with a pained expression and a shocked “ Ouch!!”

“ Sorry!” he gasps a little disoriented.

She pushes him away slightly, massaging her breast and he tries to help out only to have her yelp out in pain again.

“ You’re hurting me!” Betty snaps almost accusingly and his face falls as he steps back a little.

“ I’m sorry...I just...you’re usually not that tender...I got carried away I guess, I’m sorry,”

She’s turned away from him still massaging her breasts when he feels her stiffen suddenly. She turns around with a wide panicked look on her face.

“ Jug I’m late!”

He doesn’t really understand her statement and follows with a rather stupidly uttered, “What?”

“ My period!! I’m late!!”

Her eyes are so round that the simple shape of them snaps him out of his lust induced haze as it hits him suddenly.

Shit.

She’s got her hands on her forehead and she’s already trying to calculate how late she is from the look on her face.

He just stands there looking at her helplessly, and all he can think is, I didn’t notice that vein before because it wasn’t there. And her breasts are tender and she’s late becau...

“ Can you at least say something!” 

“ I don’t...how late exactly?” That’s apparently the wrong thing to say because judging from her face she looks ready to murder him. How exactly is he supposed to follow up to her words?

She washes away the soap from her body almost forcefully, the pleasure of her impending orgasm turning to nothing along with the soap suds. 

“ Betty! How late?” 

“ I don’t know...a week and a half? Maybe two...” she says shaking her head and her hands are curling inwards instinctively. He realizes what she’s going to do and reaches out to hold them.

“ Hey!” he says urgently,“ stop that!”

She looks stricken, almost surprised, and lets him unclench her hands as her whole body seems to sag a little.

“ Jug,” she says and her voice is so small it makes his heart ache,” what are we going to do?”

“ We can figure it out baby...it’s ok...we’ve been careful. It’s probably stress or fatigue...” Jughead tells her soothingly. She lets him massage her shoulders and slowly the tension seems to drain out a little.

“I just...I need to get back now. I need to take a test”

“I can get you some from the store tomorrow...there’s bound to be some at the pharmacy.”

“No,” She shakes her head already bending to grab her clothes,” I have some at home, I just need to take it now.”

He stares at her while she puts on her bra and panties then pulls up her jeans.

“Why do you have a pregnancy test at home?” 

She shakes her head and continues to pack up without replying. He pulls her up by the arm, and if it’s a little roughly he can’t help it.

“Why do you have pregnancy tests at home Betty?”

She’s quiet for some time and he thinks she’s deliberately ignoring him again and is about to repeat the question when she says very softly.

“I was travelling alone for a long time. And there were...all kinds of people I came across. It just...it seemed like a good idea to keep them handy.”

For a second he feels like the entire air in his lungs has been punched out of him and he can’t draw enough oxygen to breathe. Betty’s posture is tense again. He reaches out to touch her and is shocked to see it is his hands that are shaking this time.

“Betty...baby,” he swallows because his throat is dry and raspy.” Did someone hurt you?”

“No,” her voice is small, “ I got away. Always. It just seemed like a good idea to have...to have..” she falters and he knows it’s because she’s sobbing. There’s a burning in his gut and the taste of acid in his mouth as he grips her and holds her tight against his chest, unable to form any more words. 

******

Betty is pregnant.

Betty is pregnant with his child. 

There are two lines on the pregnancy stick staring back at him that tell him his wife is carrying within her a tiny little something that has the potential to grow into his child.

He stares at it and stares at it until his eyes begin to water and the lines seem to blur, sometimes merging and sometimes dispersing so that it looks like the test is playing tricks with his mind.

Betty is facing away from him and her posture is so rigid he fears she’s going to snap her spine. He can feel the anxiety rolling off her and the air is rife with it. He tries to touch her and she flinches away from his hand like she’s been burned. He steps back feeling nauseous suddenly. 

She turns to him and her eyes look scared in a way he has never seen before.

“ What are we going to do?” she signs and looks at him as if he has all the answers to her question. What are they going to do? 

“ We’ll figure it out,” he signs but that is not good enough because she shakes her head in frustration as silent tears begin to fall from her eyes. She almost lets out an audible cry and he clamps his hand on her mouth in alarm and he hates that his first thought for her isn’t please don’t cry baby but, you’re being too loud.

She pulls away from him rubbing her face and wiping at her tears harshly then signs,” I need to be alone.”

He looks at her with his mouth half open and is about to protest but she mouths, “Please.” And when he makes no move, another, “Please.”

When she turns her face away again Jughead stands helplessly looking at her profile and then quietly walks away, his mind too stunned to do anything but comply.

For the first time since the night they’ve slept together, she doesn’t come down to him. 

 

The next morning he comes upstairs and finds Mary sitting at the table with her log book open. She seems to be lost in thought. Jughead comes to sit next to her and she takes off her glasses. He remembers how devastated she had been when they had broken, and how tenderly Fred had fixed them in ways only he knew how to fix things. 

“ What’s wrong?” she signs and he sighs tiredly. He had hardly slept a wink last night and he’s got a headache now that’s building up to prove it.

“ Betty’s pregnant.” He signs and Mary’s face falls her mouth forming a drawn out “o”.

“ What now?” she signs and he shrugs. He has no idea what to do or expect. Ever since they found out Betty has closed off and he feels like he’s walking on egg shells around her. Or he would be if he knew where the fuck she was. She didn’t come to bed last night and she’s no where to be found now either.

“ Go to her,” Mary signs eventually and softly pats his arm. “ Talk to her. Whatever you decide.”

Its not like they have much to say, he thinks. It’s not like they have a choice. But he nods and gets up, slowly making his way outside. He feels hesitant, almost reluctant to approach her. The inevitability of their mutual heartbreak over this looms overhead and he wants to delay it as much as he can. Once they talk, they’ll have to agree there is no other way. This is an unnatural world with no place for a child.

No place for our child, he thinks, my child.

He finds her finally, lying in one of the fields. She looks like an Andrew Wyeth painting, surrounded by the corn and the squash and the beans, lying in the dark soil with her hair spread out and the hem of her dress frayed at the edges, toes curling and dirty. Every few minutes her fingers dig into the soil and take up a handful, crumbling up the lumps and letting it fall through her fingers again. His beautiful, brave girl, he thinks. Jughead stands there watching her till his heart can’t take it anymore.

He makes his way towards her and slowly lowers himself to the ground. He can see her face now and it is tear stained like he thought it would be. She continues to play with the soil without looking at him and he lies down beside her, facing toward her. They lie there in silence and his eyes are beginning to grow heavy with the sound of the wind in his ears, when very slowly Betty reaches out and touches a finger delicately to his lips.

It surprises him, this tender almost sensual touch. He reaches out his own hand and gently cups her face. She looks at him and her eyes are soft but strangely guarded. There is a lump in his throat and he wishes suddenly he could scream out and dislodge it, make inhaling easier. Betty continues to look at him with her faraway eyes then eventually closes them. He closes his own and feels the moisture spread out beneath his lids.

The day passes and they still don’t say anything. Betty works alongside him and their routine is efficient but a heaviness hangs between them. She gets up to leave in the late afternoon signing she wants to rest a little and before Jughead can stop himself he reaches out and kisses her. Her lips remain unmoving beneath his but she doesn’t flinch away. 

He comes inside when it begins to get dark to find Betty and Mary engaged in a silent conversation. Betty’s eyes look bloodshot and Mary has a deep frown on her face but as soon as he enters the kitchen they busy themselves in setting about dinner

Betty disappears upstairs as soon as they’re done eating while Mary helps him clear the table. He watches her then turns to Mary signing,” What did she say?”

“ She’ll tell you herself.” Mary signs back and there is no further talk on the subject. He eventually takes his leave from her and goes down to the basement.

He lies on his bed staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Betty’s not coming down tonight either from the looks of it and he doesn’t have the energy to go looking for her. It’s strange, he thinks, they’re married and so desperately in love and the one thing that should bring them even closer is pushing them apart. Because they can’t have it. His heart clenches painfully at that. He’s finally admitted it to himself. The one thing they can’t have. 

He gets up feeling claustrophobic suddenly and takes his shirt off. There is a packet of cigarettes in one of the drawers in his desk and he reaches forward to take one out. A soft movement catches his attention and he turns to find Betty coming down the stairs. She comes and sits beside him on one of the chairs and slowly reaches forward to take his hand. Then she places a pill on the desk in front of him.

“ This is an abortion pill.” She signs and her hands surprisingly, are steady. He sits there just staring at the pill and his mind is numb.

“ I’m going to take it.” She signs again and looks at him but he can’t meet her eyes. He seems to have developed a strange fascination for the pill on his desk. It’s such a small thing. He doesn’t know what to do or say. There are no words that seem right. Not the stunted words that his fingers will allow.

It’s only when he feels more than sees her shoulders sag that he tears his eyes away. Betty is crying silently, her face crumpled as harsh sobs shake her body. He reaches forward, heart in his throat and pulls her into his lap. He kisses her eyes, her cheeks, her soft sad beautiful mouth and his face is wet both with her tears and his own. 

She sits up a little and then straddles him, hitching up her dress. It’s been three days since they’ve slept together and he’s hard in his jeans just from this little contact. She rubs against him as he continues to kiss her desperately and there is a sweet kind of horror to it as the wetness on her panties seeps through to his own erection.

“fuck me.” She mouths at him, tear stained blood shot eyes pleading and suddenly her hands are everywhere, frantic trembling needy. He feels like his body is functioning without his permission as he lets her peel away his layers, peel away her own. They join in the practised choreography of their limbs and it is intensely pleasurable like always. There is no universe where it can’t be pleasurable with her. But his mind is fractured and the grief he feels can not reconcile with the pleasure he feels so that when he comes hard inside her it’s as if his heart has split apart, half for the woman he loves and half for the child he can’t save.

******

He wakes up next morning to find Betty gone but the pill is still there on the table. For a second a crazy desire to hide it seizes him. He goes looking for her and finds her upstairs not in the kitchen but in the room where she still keeps some of her things. 

“ You didn’t take it?” he signs.

“ I will,” she signs back,” I’m looking for tampons.”

Of course. Not only does she have to suffer the heartbreak, she is the one who has to bear the consequences too. It’s grossly unfair he thinks. 

He spends his entire day wondering if she’s taken it every time their eyes meet but he doesn’t dare to ask her. The question answers itself when he comes down and finds the pill still in its place on the table.

When Betty comes down she comes straight to him where he’s lying and lies down beside him curling up to his side.

“ I’ll take it tomorrow,” she signs eventually and is asleep in the next three minutes, breathing softly into his neck. He lies there running a gentle hand through her hair, stroking soft circles until sleep takes him too.

The next day passes and the pill is still there. Then the next and the next. The fourth day it’s gone and the sudden stab of grief he feels is unwelcome and unsettling. 

It’s dark upstairs in the kitchen when he comes up, which is disorienting until he realizes it’s raining outside. He shuffles over to help himself to some cereal while his mind keeps repeating she took it she took it she took it.

Mary is sitting on the couch by the fire and when he comes to join her she signs,” Betty’s upset.”

He closes his eyes for a second and opens them to find her looking at him. 

“ I think she took the pill.”

Mary nods and simply holds out her hand for his. He squeezes it thankfully. 

“ She’s outside. She won’t come in.” She signs.

He gets up and places his empty bowl near the sink as he makes his way outside.

It’s pouring heavily and the sound of the rain is very loud. He relishes in the sound as he searches for his wife. He finds her standing in the middle of the same corn field, where he had found her before, drenched. He walks up to her and softly brackets her in an embrace from behind. She’s trembling and when she turns around to throw her arms around him her face isn’t tear stained but almost happy...almost excited.

She brings her lips close to his ear and whispers,” Jughead.” 

It sends a jolt through him. They’ve never dared to actually use their voices before, apart from at the river and though it’s raining and technically just as loud, it still thrills him, the risk mixed in with the fear.

“ Come inside baby,” he whispers back tenderly,” you’ll catch a cold.”

“ Jughead,” she whispers again, ignoring his plea,” I didn’t take it.”

He doesn’t need for her to elaborate what “it” means. He draws back, mouth slack and eyes wide.

“ Baby...” he begins but she cuts him off.

“ I want to keep it Jug.” She says and his heart clenches at that strange excitable smile on her face again, at how much hope there is in it,” We can keep the baby Jug. I know it’s crazy but we can.”

“ Betty,” he murmurs softly, cupping her face,” Betty that’s not possible, you know it’s not.”

“ No.” She shakes her head, pulling away slightly but holding out her hands to cup his face too, so that they’re looking in each others eyes ,” Jughead we’ll figure something out. I know we will. We make a good team together. You’ll keep us safe. You will...I have faith in you. Please.” She falters but swallows and then follows simply with another,” Please.” 

His heart is in his mouth and there is a ringing in his ears but he wants to believe her. He wants to believe her so bad. She’s looking at him with her witch eyes and he knows he’ll do anything she’ll ask of him. 

“ Betty,” he tries again,” we need to talk about this sweetheart...this is a huge risk.”

“ I know Jug,” and she squeezes his hands, still cupping her face,” but I need to know you’re in.”

He’s quiet for just a second before he touches his forehead to hers and says, “okay.”

She kisses him, with a lovely smile blooming on her lips and whispers, “ okay.”

There is so much promise in that one little word uttered softly. And so much hope in his heart mixed with the fear, he thinks it may burst.

******

Hope is a strange thing. It suffocates him sometimes with how much he dares to believe might be possible. It consumes him and Betty as they become engrossed in fulfilling their promise to each other. It grows like a disease in his mind even as his child grows inside Betty.

They begin by thinking of every possible way to sound proof the basement. When that seems impossible, Betty suggests they start small. So they find a large wooden crate in the barn and set about preparing it for the baby. They also start work on building a small rough cabin near the waterfall. It’s their best bet if all else fails.

It’s difficult finding good sized logs because they can’t cut down trees. Jughead spends his afternoons trudging through the woods, shotgun in hand looking silently for wood to build his child’s refuge. Sometimes Mary accompanies him and her presence is reassuring. Mary has been so supportive in their decision and it warms his heart dearly. It is a huge gamble, one that will affect all three of them should anything go wrong. The fact that she has given them her blessings despite that very real risk means the world to him.

He builds the little log cabin, working as quietly as he can by the waterfall. Betty and Mary rarely accompany him because his absence requires their focus on the farm. Winter is almost upon them, and the last of the preparations before they are locked up inside still need to be made.

His efforts are beginning to take shape and hope is now a little log cabin deep in the woods by the river. His heart feels light as he walks back home one evening ready to eat his supper and recount his day’s progress to Betty and Mary.

It is quiet as usual when he is startled by a sudden movement to his right and the snapping of a twig. His heart is in his mouth as he tries to identify the source of both the movement and the offending noise. He squints in the receding light and realizes with a jolt that he is being watched by a pair of yellow eyes.

It’s a coyote.

Jughead is so surprised by it that he nearly drops the gun. The animal stares at him for sometime and then sneaks off quietly into the thicket. Jughead stands there waiting and then with unsteady steps starts waking away. He hasn’t yet walked twenty steps when a low howl sounds from the direction where the coyote disappeared. He breaks into a run to get away from the sound expecting the creatures to appear any second. Strangely enough the howling gets lower and lower but does not stop abruptly. He is sweating by the time it finally stops sounding in his ear. 

When he gets home Mary is reading by the fire and Betty is checking her blood pressure with the help of the B.P apparatus he got her from the abandoned town hospital.

“ What took so long? “ she signs when he comes inside.

Jughead tells them what he saw and Mary’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“ I thought all of those were killed?” she signs and Jughead just shrugs. 

Hope is a pair of yellow eyes watching him quietly through the bushes in his dream that night.

****** 

 

The winter months pass slowly. Mary sits by the fire most days and knits. She makes jokes about becoming a grandmother and laughs quietly when they join her. He looks at her and thinks how harmoniously she has accepted this.

In the nights he lies with betty and they talk, words forming on their hands and sometimes on paper. She tells him about the mother for whom she was never enough and the father who was never really present and the sister who was a rebel and the brother who was always angry. He tells her about the alcoholic father who taught him about breaking promises and the careless mother who taught him about breaking hearts. She takes his hands and kisses him and kisses him. She tells him they are each others soulmates and their child is the fruit of their love. 

Betty’s body begins to change. He has loved each part of her in such acute detail it is impossible not to catalogue even the tiniest of changes. She has always been curvy but now when he undresses her each night everything about her is positively sinful. Her breasts are just...unbelievable and most nights he stares at her with his mouth open when she takes off her bra and gets ready for bed. It makes her laugh, his fascination with them.

And it’s different also, the way he wants her. It’s more primal. Every time he comes inside her he thinks mine. It makes him want to mark her in a way he hasn’t ever allowed his mind to indulge in before. She is fiercely Independent, his wife and he can’t even imagine ever wanting to contain or label her. But he looks at her now and he thinks those are my limbs, that is my neck, that is my mouth, that is my child in her womb. That is my wife in my bed. When he puts his mouth on her she shuts her eyes and swears she can see the stars. He looks at her and sees his own universe. 

He wakes up abruptly one night startled by something he can’t quite place. Betty is cuddled into his side, warm and soft in her sleep and he is about to doze off when he sits up again this time, eyes wide, heart beating madly no longer unsure why he woke up in the first place.

There is a wolf howling very loudly somewhere near by outside. The sound is muffled in the basement and Betty is passed out from exhaustion but it’s loud enough to have fear gripping him like a vice as he stumbles out of bed, the thought of Mary alone upstairs making him clumsy in his panic. It has been so long since the last time he heard such a loud sound it rings unnaturally in his ears. The creatures must be bounding by the second towards the source of this sound and the only thing he can do is make sure his family is together and as quiet as possible to prevent them becoming alert to their presence. When he makes his way upstairs quite sure that Mary must be up already he is surprised to find her in deep sleep. It strikes him then that she is passed out under the effect of the sedative in the muscle relaxant she’s been taking for two days for her backache. His anxiety is spiking and the vessel in his temple is pulsing madly. He comes downstairs again and takes a seat in front of the monitors. He is shocked to find not one but three large wolves as they appear and disappear on the screens.

All night he sits in front of the monitors watching the wolves as they prowl, eyes glued to their movement waiting any second for the creatures to come bounding and rip off their heads. All night the wolves continue to howl from time to time, undisturbed. It’s nearing dawn and nothing has happened and his heart is full of such a strange mixture of feelings he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“Betty!!” he whispers urgently, the sound of his voice unfamiliar in the basement but undoubtedly ripe with hope. “Betty wake up!!”

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read this story. I'm sad to bid farewell to this world because i had a wonderful time writing this AU. Please drop a comment because they mean everything to me!!! Come say hi to me on my tumblr@honestlyhappymoon!!!Love you all!!

**Author's Note:**

> I've planned at least two more chapters for this fic where hopefully more spoken dialogue comes into play. I hope you guys like where it's going so far. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. And if you haven't seen "A Quiet Place" you are missing out on a wonderful experience so watch it!!


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